


He Laid Emeralds In His Eyes

by krsive



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Be warned!, Consensual Underage Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smut, Smut and Fluff, Soulmates, Soulmates AU, Top Rick Sanchez, Well pretty slow, i'm impatient, no beta reader!, not c137cest, original rick and morty, other adult situations, rick k-331, there's always angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krsive/pseuds/krsive
Summary: Rick finally finds his Soulmate. It's nothing like he'd ever imagined.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith, rick/morty
Comments: 125
Kudos: 398





	1. Chapter 1

Rick Sanchez of dimension K-331 stood outside the suburban front door, just breathing in and out. He felt nauseous. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You old bag of turds_. Just on the other side, his daughter was going about what he was sure was a blissful life. Surely she had found what he never did--joy and light. Purpose in life.

Her Soulmate.

Rick was 66 years old now. He was finished, done for, left out in the cold. He had watched everyone in his life find their other half while time passed him by, leaving him an aged and bitter alcoholic. He had never been truly loved by anyone. Which was only fair, since had given up on loving others before he was even out of high school. By the time he met Diane he’d long since been beaten, gaybashed, and abandoned into creating for himself a heart of stone. Beth was the best thing he’d ever made, but he knew he wouldn’t ever be the father she truly needed. He had no pattern for parenting, no heart to cut the cloth of it from. So it was with tearful acceptance that he let Diane walk right out of his life on the very day that she first met her Soulmate. He guessed she wasn’t a loner like him, after all.

That was the day he had abandoned earth for what he thought was for good, taking to the cosmos to drink, snort, and fuck his way across as many universes as he could. He met other Ricks and learned that his reality was atypical, that the very existence of Soulmates was considered by them to be at most a sentimental gimmick. Unlike him, who had never met his Soulmate and therefore never gained the ability, they could experience the rapture that was seeing the world in actual color. Not even other versions of himself could understand him, in the end; why would he expect any other human to? He was alone in his loneliness, utterly.

Now he was getting old. His joints were starting to creak. All the drugs and the sex were starting to lose their luster for him, and the Galactic Federation was sniffing at his heels. So he did the one thing he thought he would never do: he went back to earth with his tail between his legs. And here he was trying to prepare himself to see the daughter he had abandoned 30 years ago. At least he had held off longer than most other Ricks.

_Come on, Rick. We could turn around and get out of here right now and no one would ever be the wiser_. Mostly to spite himself, Rick reached out and rang the doorbell. Realizing belatedly that his breath was coming in nervous shaky gasps, he took out his flask quickly and put it to his mouth. He had it to his lips and was just tipping back some of the stinging liquid when the front door opened.

Oh god. His little girl still had his eyes and Diane’s button nose. She had grown into her ears. His high cheekbones looked better on her than they ever had on his too-sharp face. But it was her eyes that he kept coming back to, that held him. Like looking in a mirror. 

She dropped her wine glass and it shattered against the tiles on her side of the screen door. He watched her hands quake as she brought them to her mouth, watched the liveliness go out of her face. 

“Dad?” Whatever she might have been, whatever she might have accomplished in her life, whatever she had grown into, in that moment she was nothing but his little girl. They could both sense it.

He put on his best practiced smile. “Hey, sweetie,” he said simply. Desperate to school his emotions, he went back to sipping from his flask. “Got room for one more at the dinner table?”

“Oh my god. _Oh my god_.” 

Tears began to slide down her cheeks. He had expected either this or a furious, screaming blowout. Honestly, he would have taken the blowout if he’d had his choice. He was helpless against this onslaught of grief. _Look what you did, you unbridled bastard. You destroy everything you touch_. He was beginning to feel awfully guilty for even coming here. The portal gun sat heavy in his pocket, and he was just about to reach for it when the screen door opened. 

“ _Daddy!_ ” Beth cried as she flung herself into his arms. 

A bit of liquor sloshed into her hair, but neither of them noticed. Rick stood awkwardly for a moment and then, gently and tenderly, he folded his arms around his little girl.

“Hey, Beth,” he said more quietly. The world had shrunk to include only them, their hearts beating close together and in sync as if they had never been apart. 

“I knew you’d come back. I always knew it.” She squeezed him tightly. “After you missed mom’s funeral, I...but I never lost faith.”

“I’m so sorry, Beth. I should have been there.”

She pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “I didn’t think you even knew.”

Rick shook his head. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you. I was never gone, not all the way. Your mother...she found Alberto and I didn’t...I just didn’t…” He was in danger of misting up, himself, and he bit down sharply on the inside of his cheek to beat the tears down. 

“I know, daddy.” Beth cleared her throat and stepped back from him. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her face splotchy. “Come inside, please? Meet the family?” She chewed on her lower lip, eyeing his face eagerly. “How long do you plan to stay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well...do you happen to have a spare room?” He trailed off with a dry, weak chuckle. 

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, daddy, of course! Everyone will be so happy to have you!” She squeezed his arm. “We can be a real family.”

“That sounds great, Beth,” he said, putting on the charm for her as much as he could. 

“Come on inside.” She went back and held the door open for him, pausing for a moment to pull an embarrassed face. “Careful of the glass…”

He stepped past her into a boring suburban living room. There was a twenty-year-old girl on the couch--his granddaughter Summer, he knew from his reconnaissance. She barely looked up from her phone when he walked in, just gave him a side eye. “Who’s the old guy?”

“Summer!” Beth chided, “get up and say hello to your grandpa Rick.”

Summer got to her feet, looking up at Rick with half-lidded, bored eyes. “Hey,” she eventually said. 

“Yeah, nice to meet you, too,” said Rick wryly, feeling her pain. After the reunion with his daughter he needed about three packs of cigarettes, a 40 of everclear, and to not be here. He could tell Summer felt more or less the same way. Minus all the substance abuse, he hoped.

“Summer,” Beth said warningly.

Summer rolled her eyes. “I mean ‘hey, grandpa Rick,’” she said with false cheer.

He heard Beth sigh heavily beside him, and he turned toward her in reassurance when he was distracted by another voice. 

“Hey, mom, w-w-what’s going on?”

A boy was walking into the room--short and delicate-featured, with a mop of curly hair and a cupid’s bow mouth. He locked eyes with Rick.

At first Rick thought he was going blind. His eyes hurt like a motherfucker, his brain couldn’t process what he was seeing. Everything had changed in a profound way that he could not define. Textures leapt out at him, along with something as indescribable as it was jubilant as it stood out all around him. Understanding dawned. 

Color!

He looked around him in wonder, momentarily forgetting Beth and Summer and the boy. He was learning all sorts of things for the first time. His daughter’s eyes were the same hue as the sky viewed through the window. His daughter and granddaughter both had even complexions but when he looked down at his own skin it seemed pallid to him in comparison. He looked up again at the boy who was standing, gaping at him, and wondered what the word was for the color of his eyes.

Oh. Oh no. This couldn’t be happening. Because the boy who had just changed his whole world, his _Soulmate_ , was his underage grandson. It was like the punchline of a cosmic joke and he was the butt of it. He felt the world tilt around him, heard Beth’s voice at his side, though he could not discern her words. All that mattered to him in that moment was his own pain as he watched the boy wrinkle his nose, staring back at him.

Of course. He was disgusting, he could admit that to himself. He wouldn’t want a wrinkled, used up old man for a Soulmate, either, not to mention an incestuous pervert. If Rick could have turned back time and never come here, he would have. Not that he believed in time travel as a concept, but maybe he could force a little something through, rig a message to go back and warn himself. And if he happened to get burned up and evaporated in the attempt? Even better. He hadn’t even done anything yet--and here he was, thinking yet like the old creep that he was, like he planned to do something awful eventually--and he was already willing to chalk this up as being his own fault somehow. Whatever sick shit he had done to deserve watching his grandson go through this, he regretted it. 

“Dad!” Beth finally bellowed almost directly into his ear. “Morty, Morty, go call 911! Dad!”

Rick ran his hand over his face. The spell was broken. Morty turned his back on Rick, Rick put out his hand to calm his daughter. “No, no. I’m alright. I..uh..I’m just dehydrated or something.” He patted his breast pocket and came up with his flask--oh, right, he had sloshed the contents everywhere when Beth practically tackled him in the yard. He drank what was left as quickly as he could. His hands were shaking. Morty had turned away from him and was now standing in profile, subtly looking at Rick out of the corner of his eye. 

“Well, let’s get you onto the couch,” Beth said. “You should just rest up, dad. I’ll come get you when supper is ready.”

Rick, still dizzy, rose to his feet with some difficulty. Beth went ahead of him to the couch and began to fluff a pillow. Summer quickly yanked a throw blanket right out of her mom’s hands, complaining about “old man smell,” and Rick waved his daughter off. “Go, sweetie. I’ll be fine.”

At first Rick pretended that he wasn’t looking at Morty. But, since Morty seemed to be busy pretending not to look at Rick, it didn’t work out for either of them. Breathlessly, Morty approached the couch. Rick felt the dinginess of his sweater, the frayed hems of his labcoat sleeves, the wild uncombed sweep of his hair. Most of all he felt the lines around his eyes, the slight sag of his skin. What a disappointment. He found himself wishing that he had more to offer his Soulmate. Then he found himself wishing he’d never had that thought. He had already ruined his own daughter; he wasn’t going to ruin his grandson, as well. When he’d still had fantasies about meeting a Soulmate someday, even in his blackest musings he had never considered that it would be a moment this cruel.

Morty came over and sat down with his back against the couch, not looking at Rick but nearly touching him. Rick moved his arm away after a brief gut-wrenchingly indulgent moment of savoring the warmth of Morty’s back. 

“Your eyes are blue,” Morty said after a long pause. 

“Fuck off, kid.”

“They’re the same color as the sky. We learned about it in school.” There was another pause before Morty ventured to speak again. “What color are mine?”

“The fuck should I know? Like I’m some kind of ex--we both just…” He growled in frustration. Talking about this was making it too real for his taste.

“I’ve alway w-wanted to know…”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t care less.” 

The lie came easily to his forked tongue. Despite himself he was intrigued about the boy. He supposed that was the natural gravity of the Soulmate bond stirring inside of him. It was more or less impossible to just ignore the epiphany of someone literally bringing color to your world. He just tried to remember the initial disgust he had seen on Morty’s face. He held it in his mind to combat the awe he was still feeling. His world was changed, yes, but it didn’t have to change any further. He didn’t need to spend one moment getting closer to the boy.

Or maybe, just maybe, he could satisfy himself secretly. Keep the boy at arm’s length-- _specifically_ at arm’s length. Close enough to feel his warmth and no closer. Satisfy his own selfishness without destroying his Soulmate. 

“Oh,” the boy said, sounding completely crestfallen. He hugged his knees to his chest. “You’re...not g-g-going t-to tell m-m-m-m-mom about this, are you?”

“Fuck no.”

Just then the front door opened and a man walked in. Rick supposed that this must be his son-in-law. Rick had been angry for years about this punk knocking up his daughter at 17, but having experienced the powerful draw of the Soulmate moment, he had just found a tiny bit of sympathy. Still, though, couldn’t he have wrapped it up? Jesus. Jerry stepped in the broken glass and puddle of wine with a distinct crunch, and lifted his foot up. Rick watched the puzzled look on his face from his nest on the couch. 

“Uh...Beth?” the man called, before his eyes came to rest on Rick. Morty subtly leaned away from his grandfather as he felt his father’s eyes on him. “Beth, who’s this on our couch?”

Beth rushed into the room, her cheeks flushed, holding a brand new glass of wine. Red, so that was red. The wine’s color was reflected in pale imitation in his daughter’s complexion. “Jerry, this is my dad. Dad, this is my...husband, Jerry. Oh, but you probably already know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sweetie. Jerry,” he greeted him cooly. He noticed that Beth looked nervous. He tried to put a reassuring smile on his face. 

“Mr. Sanchez, ah...I…” He was flustered, too. It was as if he had walked in on two teenagers, like they were trapped on prom night feeling the weight of their mistakes.

“Blech, no. Not Mr. Sanchez. That’s disgusting. Just Rick.”

“Rick,” Morty repeated under his breath. Rick tried not to let himself think he’d heard in the utterance the same awe that he, himself, was feeling.

“Rick,” said Jerry, drawing the word out. “So, _Rick_ , after what, 30 years? You just decided to pop by for dinner? How...nice.”

“Jerry,” Beth hissed, “be nice.” She cleared her throat. “Dad is going to be coming to live with us. Isn’t that right, dad?”

Rick frowned down at Morty, who looked back over his shoulder at him with something that seemed like hope. The boy was the reason that he had chosen this hideout in the first place; his brainwaves would hide him from the Galactic Federation. His only real alternative was the Citadel, and fuck that place. They had alienated him before, and now that he’d found his Soulmate all he could foresee at the Citadel was a rapid death by alcoholism as he drank away his incestuous shame twice as fast as he would here. Sure, maybe he had a death wish, but it wasn’t that death wish. Cirrhosis of the liver was a fucked up way to go. 

“Yep. That’s right, sweetie. You won’t even notice I’m around.”

“Nonsense, dad. You’re part of the family, now. We’re just so happy to have you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jerry muttered under his breath. Beth elbowed him in the ribs.

“Spaghetti is ready!” Beth chirped, changing the subject. “Dad? Are you feeling any better?” 

Rick nodded his head. He didn’t particularly feel like gathering around for family dinner, but he had to admit that he was famished. And if Beth’s cooking was anything like her mother’s, this would be the best meal he had eaten in years. Rick was a functional but unimaginative chef, and half the time he just ate the intergalactic equivalent of instant ramen. 

He came back to himself to see Morty standing over him reaching out a hand to help him up.

“Nice try, you little punk,” Rick muttered, taking a wide berth around him as he rolled off the couch and onto his feet. Skin-to-skin contact would solidify the bond even further, and give Morty access to his mind. He couldn’t risk that. He would have to be vigilant.

The dinner table was laid, Summer and Jerry already in their seats. Beth was coming in from the kitchen carrying the last two plates of food, which she set in front of two side-by-side empty seats. Summer was sitting across from him, still scrolling through her phone, and Beth was standing at the head of the table.

“Here, dad, why don’t you sit next to Morty?”

“That sounds great, sweetie,” Rick gritted out. He looked down at Morty, who was beaming at him. With a sigh, Rick slouched into a chair.

“So,” Jerry said as soon as everyone had picked up their forks. “Rick. How do you intend to pay rent?”

“Jerry!” Beth turned a wide-eyed stare toward her father. “Dad, don’t worry about that. Me and Jerry are both blessed with good jobs,” she said, turning back toward Jerry and pointedly glaring at him. “And we have a spare room to set you up in.”

“I wouldn’t call it a _spare_ room. Where else am I supposed to keep my baseball cards?” whined Jerry.

“You already have an office. And if you can’t cram them in there, then they’ll go in the attic.”

“The attic?! I have ultra rare cards in there, Beth!”

Rick watched the fight heat up. He stole a glance at Morty now that everyone’s attention was off of him, and wasn’t surprised to see him pushing the spaghetti around on his plate sullenly. He wore an expression that Rick knew all too well from his own youth as a child of unhappy parents. So Beth hadn’t been able to break the cycle, after all. It was too bad. She and his grandchildren all deserved better. He had already disliked Jerry, but now the hatred was hardening into a little stone of hatred inside his chest.

“I don’t want to listen to this shit,” Rick said to Morty, quietly. “Wanna help me get my stuff?”

Morty looked up at him, some kind of calculation going on behind his eyes. “Seriously?”

“I’m sure as hell not going to carry it all.” Rick spoke up louder, then. “Sweetie, Morty and I are gonna go get my things.”

Beth looked scared for a moment, but Jerry tore into her again and suddenly she was drawn back into the argument. Rick and Morty both got up from the table and Rick lead him outside. 

“Ready to see something cool?” he asked Morty, trying to cheer the boy up. Morty seemed reluctant to speak up and just nodded.

Rick took out his portal gun, twisted the dial, and shot a portal a few yards in front of his grandson. The boy’s eyes lit up, reflecting the neon glow. 

“What is that?” he whispered. 

“Walk into it and find out.”

Morty screwed up his brow for a moment, clearly thinking it over. In the end he gave Rick an open glance and stepped into the portal. Rick followed close behind. They exited in a dim warehouse packed to the brim with gadgets, inventions, and random half-built scifi detritus. Morty gaped at it all for a while and then turned towards Rick, face still lit up with wonder.

“What i-is all this? Where are we?”

“Welcome to my workshop. Don’t touch anything unless I tell you to if you don’t want to die.” He laughed a bit to himself as he watched Morty pull his arms in closer to his sides. “Pick up that bin and let’s get started.”

For a few hours they worked, sorting through Rick’s things and carrying them back through portals to the Smith house. At Rick’s command, Morty was more than happy to start emptying Jerry’s shit from the spare room and the garage out onto the lawn and replacing it with Rick’s. The boy was so compliant. This would be all too easy if it weren’t for…

“Are we going to talk about it?” Morty asked, suddenly jarring Rick away from his own thoughts. “You know...you being my S-Soulmate?”

“No, Morty. We’re not.” He glared at Morty with as much fire as he could muster. “Ever.”

“I bet we’re not the only ones l-l-like this,” Morty rushed on hurriedly. “Sure it’s k-kinda weird but it’s not like you’ve known me since I was a l-little kid or anything--”

“Morty. You’re a little kid _right now_.” Rick sighed and dragged his hand down his face. “I’m too old for this Soulmates bullshit. It’s meaningless. You’re better off just forgetting about it.”

 _You’re better off just forgetting about_ me. Rick tried to shake the thought out of his head. He started to reach out to ruffle the boy’s hair as a sort of half-assed apology when he remembered himself and drew his hand back. He saw Morty take in an excited breath and then blow it out in disappointment. 

“Let me make one thing abundantly clear, Morty. If you ever touch me without my permission I will leave this planet so fast it’ll make your stupid little head spin until it falls the fuck off. Stay out of my way and we’ll get along just fine.”

“Ok, grandpa Rick,” said Morty sadly.

Rick cringed. “Let’s drop the ‘grandpa,’ considering…”

Morty’s expression bounced back somewhat. “Ok, Rick.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Doing some light reading, dad?” 

Six months after their tearful reunion, Rick was sitting in the living room with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose poring through a real tome of a book. He used his finger to mark his place and shut the cover, looking up at his daughter with the falsely-open expression he had grown accustomed to using with her. In the last six months he had found that as long as he gave a little to her she would defend him against all the complaints of the rest of the family, leaving him free to treat all of them however he wanted. Jerry got the worst of it, and Morty wasn’t lagging far behind. Summer had begun to take an interest in him, but he remained more or less apathetic to her curiosity. 

“Did you need something, sweetie?” He didn’t want to call attention to his reading material.

Whip-smart Beth caught on, anyway.

“‘ _Soulmates and The Electromagnetic Spectrum_ ,’” she read out. “Dad? Did you...did you meet someone?” 

He bit back an annoyed sigh. “No, sweetie. It’s...I’m working on an invention. Not that this ponce is saying anything about the subject that I didn’t already know.” 

It was only partially a lie. For a long time he had hoped to make an invention that would let him experience the world of color without finding his Soulmate, but he had scrapped the idea when he had realized he couldn’t do it without destroying the physiological mechanism by which a Soulmate bond functioned. Since part of him still hoped he might find his other half someday, he chickened out of the surgery and gave up on the idea. Now he was wondering if he could reverse everything about the bond but keep the colors. The world of color was beyond anything he had ever imagined it could be, and he was loathe to give that up, even if it meant he had to be a little more careful around Morty than he would have liked.

Morty. The boy was everything that Rick didn’t deserve. Where Rick was hardened and shriveled, Morty was soft and kind. The boy had more of a conscience in his littlest finger than Rick had ever been able to boast for himself. He saw the bright side of everything. Rick found himself raging at the rest of his family on a near daily basis for the way they ignored and scorned the boy. He deserved better than them. Even Rick’s own daughter wasn’t blameless, spending more of her energy on fighting with Jerry and drinking than she did on her son. He guessed the apple really didn’t fall far from the tree. He was sorry for what he had done to Beth, but not sorry enough to overlook her mistreatment of her kids entirely. At least he hadn’t ever laid a finger on her, unlike his own parents, and so he hadn’t passed down that particular brand of shit-tier parenting.

“Ah. I should have realized.” She cleared her throat. “Is it something that...would it let someone see colors?” Trying to cover her enticed expression, she took a long sip of ruby red wine. Rick, drawn to it subconsciously, raised his rocks glass to his lips at the same time. 

“Why--Bethy?” He narrowed his brow at her. “Is Jerry not--?”

She cleared her throat and looked at the carpet. He shook his head and growled in frustration.

“I thought you would have learned from my mistakes!” He slammed the glass down on the side table. She jumped at the noise. “Beth, I thought you would be smart enough to realize that a marriage without your Soulmate is inherently unsustainable! What are you gonna do when you meet the person you’re really supposed to be with?” He paused for a moment, and then added. “And why _Jerry_ of all people?”

“I got knocked up, dad, what do you want me to say?” she asked, visibly exasperated and ashamed. “I thought ‘you know, Beth, you’re probably just like your dad.’ I mean, you were always up front about how you didn’t have...and…” She shook her head. “Since you still don’t...I mean...you didn’t wait around for it. You went out and lived your life. I figured I would do the same thing.”

“Beth, you were only 17 when you got pregnant. That’s a little young to make that kind of decision, don’t you think? I mean what if Summer came home and said she was getting married to some guy who isn’t even her Soulmate?”

“That’s different,” Beth muttered sullenly. “Summer is definitely going to have one.”

Rick blew out a frustrated sigh. “Beth. You’re only 35. You’re still so young. There’s still time.”

“Well...I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“Right. I’m sure that Morty will take that real well. And Summer,” he added in hurriedly.

If Beth noticed she didn’t let on. “Summer and Morty are both grown up. So I guess things will work out no matter what.” She swirled the wine around in the bottom of her glass before draining it. “Don’t stay up too late, dad.”

Barely containing his frustration, Rick accepted her peck on the forehead and opened his book back up. “I won’t, sweetie.”

A scant few minutes after Beth walked off, Rick felt himself being stared at. He put his finger back in the pages of the book and sighed audibly. “Alright, kid, just come out and ask me whatever stupid question you’ve got rattling around in what passes for a brain where you come from.”

Morty skittered into the living room and sat on the floor at Rick’s feet. 

“Why did you say all that stuff to Mom about Soulmates but every time I ask you about it you say that it doesn’t really mean anything?” he asked accusingly. 

Rick felt a monster of a headache brewing. “Because you’re both idiots and I can say whatever the fuck I want to either of you.”

“That’s n-n-not a real answer, Rick,” he said, crossing his arms. The kid was getting cocky.

“Because you and me, kid? We’re a cosmic mistake. You don’t burn down the house just because there’s a creaky stair. And I’m going to fix it, anyway,” he said, gesturing to the book and showing the title. “Pretty soon I’ll figure out a way to undo this.”

It was theoretically possible at any stage before the Soulmates became telepathically linked, and he had been _very_ careful not to touch Morty and solidify their mental connection. He just needed to refine his ideas and figure out a way to keep his color sense. A few more all nighters and he was willing to bet he would have it.

“You want to...undo it?”

“What have I done to give you any other impression, Morty?”

“I dunno, I just thought…”

“You thought that I was going to come around on the question of, what? Of fucking my _underage grandson_?” Rick’s face burst into a smile of triumph as Morty winced. “Oh, oh you like that, Morty?”

“Nobody said anything about f-f-f-f-fucking anyone,” Morty groused, looking down into the carpet.

“What did you think I was gonna want to do, play checkers? Yeah, that’s right. You _should_ feel stupid.”

Morty rubbed at his arm. “Do you think I’m gross if I...if I, you know, _would_?”

 _I could never think that_. “Duh, Morty. You incestuous little perv.”

Morty shook his head rapidly. “But I’ve been thinking. I really get it th-th-that incest is bad if it makes, like, messed up babies. But you and me could never have a baby. And I didn’t know you until six months ago. So you didn’t know me when I was really small. I know I’m just a teenager, b-but I’m almost old enough to join the _army_ , Rick! So wh-why don’t I get to have my Soulmate just ‘cause you’re a-a-a-a rotten old prude?”

“Prude? _I’m_ a prude? Maybe you’re just a depraved little shit, you ever think of that?”

Rick rose to his feet and dug into his labcoat pocket, coming up with the portal gun and aiming it at the opposite wall. “Alright, come on, Morty. Grandpa’s gonna show you how much of a _prude_ he is.” He frowned deeply when Morty stayed in his spot on the floor. “Get in the fucking portal, Morty.”

“O-o-o-or what?” Morty asked, lifting his chin defiantly. “You won’t touch me. You won’t throw me in there o-o-or anything.”

Rick rose abruptly to his feet, hands fisted at his sides. “Fine! Stay here, whatever. I’m leaving.”

He stomped through the portal and into the brothel on the other side. He slapped his FedCred debit card down on the front desk, scowling at the frightened young clerk. “Let’s start with one night in the winner’s suite, your most expensive bottle, and an eighth of k-lax.”

“Y-yes sir,” she stammered.

Half an hour later he was feeling much better. The suite was truly luxurious, with a small bar, an enormous circular bed beneath a giant mirror, and soft, warm lighting. Half of the bottle and generous helping of k-lax were gone, and he had his head resting comfortably in the lap of a prostitute who was nearly as high as he was. She was covered in short fur, and her thigh was so soft. So was her touch as she stroked his hair back away from his face. 

“He’s just so _stupid_ ,” he was saying, practically babbling at this point. “I mean, did he really expect me to just jump with joy when I found out who my Soulmate really is? Why can’t he see that some little twerp isn’t good enough for me, even if we _weren’t_ related?” He pressed his hands to his temples in a gesture of pure frustration. “I’m an old man, you know? I’ve been around. Some little baby isn’t enough to satisfy me.”

“It sounds a lot like you’re trying to convince _yourself_ , Rick,” the girl--what was her name? Kalila? Something like that--said to him in an even voice. “I remember what it was like when I found my soulmate. Nothing that came before really mattered anymore.”

Rick snorted. “Do you try to convince every paying customer that they should be going home to someone else instead? That doesn’t sound like a great way to rake in the tips. In any sense. Heeyooo,” he laughed, pleased with his own joke.

“I’m just saying that it’s ok to fall in love,” she said.

“Oh yeah? Sorry if I decline to take a whore’s advice on love.”

She shrugged but didn’t stop stroking his hair. “Me and my girl, we’ve got something special. She knows what I do for a living. We make it work. Anyway you’d be surprised what I hear in here. I’m probably the galaxy’s most qualified therapist after everything people have said to me.”

He snorted again, derisively. “A buncha losers. I don’t respect therapy. And I certainly wouldn’t ever pay a prostitute just to listen to me ramble. Now get outta those clothes--I’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing all your life.”

She smiled subtly. “Whatever you say, Rick.”

Rick spent the rest of the night taking Kalila apart, and then spent the rest of the week fucking his way through the staff as if it were his job instead of theirs. He had the funds to keep doing at it indefinitely, and he would have if it weren’t for his own paranoia. Eventually he couldn’t even enjoy the sex because one eye was always on the window waiting to see GF police lights in the parking lot. 

He had to get back to his camouflage.

It was 2:30 in the morning in the Smith house when he portaled back into his room. The first thing he noticed in the green light of the portal was the wine stain at his feet. Then his gaze rose and he came face to face with his grandson, who was sitting in his cot and holding his pillow to his chest with both arms. He sniffled and tried to wipe away tears, but they both knew Rick had seen them. 

“R-R-Rick!” Morty’s face lit up, albeit slowly. “Mom said you were gone forever, but I knew you were coming back!”

“Uh huh. You knew it so hard that you decided to cry about it in my room like a little _bitch_ , right?” Rick wasn’t ready to deal with this. He took out his flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink. He was already fucked up, stumbling drunk, but a little more couldn’t hurt.

“I’m not crying.”

“Tell that to the disgusting wet patch you’ve made on my fucking pillow.”

Morty frowned. “Why do you have to treat me like this, Rick? Huh? What did I ever do to you that was so bad?”

“Newsflash, _Morty_ , this is just me. I’m an asshole.” He realized that the honesty felt emboldening, and stood up straighter. “I’m an old shriveled-up piece of shit alcoholic asshole, Morty. I was never going to just be your little boyfriend. This was never going to end with us holding hands and skipping through the flowers, Morty.”

“I don’t need that, Rick. I just...j-j-j-just want…”

“What? What do you want from me, Morty? ‘Cause I guarantee whatever it is I can’t give it to you.”

“I just want someone to love me,” Morty whispered, looking down at his feet. He put the threadbare pillow aside and stood up, eyes still downcast. “No one loves me,” he said, starting to cry again.

Rick blanched. He stood with his arms out, wanting to reach for the boy but knowing the consequences if he did. They were just something he couldn’t bear. 

“Get out,” he said, throat dry. “Go back to your room, Morty. Text that little red haired girl or something. Just...get out of my room.”

Morty nodded and shuffled away, pulling the door closed behind him. Rick flopped down into his bed, breathing hard. His heart was hammering out of control. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to force down the stinging tears that were coming up. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had cried. He had thought that all tears were dried up from his heart for life. But his grandson’s simple desire touched a place deep inside of Rick. He knew exactly what that felt like, being unloved by the people who were supposed to love you no matter what. He found himself holding onto his pillow for dear life, mirroring Morty’s former posture, crying into the fabric to muffle the sounds. He was just one more piece of shit who was doing the boy wrong. He was just like his deadbeat dad. He wasn’t worth the air that he was breathing. Rick shucked his labcoat off quickly before he could convince himself to fish out his blaster and finish the job and threw it across the room, out of reach. That done, he kicked off his shoes and laid down in his clothes, settling in for a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for Content Warning

Morty sat on the workbench watching Rick fiddle with an invention just to his left. He had begun to sleep soundly again, at least on nights when he wasn’t pulled from his bed for adventures. For a long time after Rick ran out on him he had experienced panic attacks and insomnia. He would get up in the middle of the night and go to Rick’s bedroom door, pressing his ear to the door just to make sure he could hear the old man snoring. The feeling of panic would leave him and he would stand listening for a long time, sometimes until dawn. But things were more or less back to the way they had been before.

Which was, in Morty’s estimation, part of the problem.

He had no plan of how to bring his grandfather around to his way of thinking about their relationship, but it was clear to him that he had to do something. Pining away for a Soulmate who remained stubbornly two feet away from him wasn’t sustainable long term. Morty’s appetite had ghosted away from him in the time since his grandfather arrived, and he had been thinking some pretty dark thoughts for weeks now. Thoughts about wanting his outside to hurt just as much as his inside did. He didn’t dare say anything about it to his family, but he wondered if Rick would actually care. Maybe if he knew what he was doing to him he would relent. Morty frowned at Rick’s profile.

No, Rick cared far more about the machine he was working on than he would ever care about Morty. It was easy to see that. At best what Morty would get from a confession was a night of biting mockery. At worst, a trip to the psych ward just to get him out of Rick’s hair for a while. So Morty chewed his lip and sat in silence, just watching Rick work. He liked the way that Rick’s cobalt eyes glittered as he worked, the way he got utterly absorbed in finding solutions to problems. 

Morty was willing to bet that his grandfather was the smartest man in the universe. He should be satisfied to have even a scrap of his attention ever, not greedy for more. He shouldn’t be so disgusting, lusting after his own grandfather. He should be tougher, not letting Rick’s insults get to him.

“Morty, go turn out the light. I need to check the color of this umbral luminescence.”

Morty hopped down and went to flip the light switch, watching as Rick’s face lit up with a spectral violet glow. It made him look older than he did in the light of day, leaving Morty with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. How much time did they have to waste? Rick was going to die before him--that much was as sure as fact. Morty only had so long allotted with his Soulmate; why were they wasting time? He felt a whimper bubble up in him. Rick gave him the side eye but thankfully didn’t ask him anything about it, instead simply instructing him to turn the lights back on.

Morty went back and hopped back up on the table. “Rick?” he found himself asking before he had even realized he planned to say something.

Rick’s eyes darted up to his face and then back down to his project. “What, Morty?”

“Are you glad you can see color now?”

He watched Rick sigh and push back from the table, slouching in his seat and taking his flask out of his pocket. “Why don’t you say what you really mean, you little shit?”

Morty cleared his throat awkwardly. “O-o-ok, then,” he said, trying to convince himself that he felt brave. “Are you g-glad that you have a Soulmate?”

“Morty, why do you keep trying to get me on board with this? Do I seem super excited about this whole Soulmates thing to you? Or do I look like an old man with a dumbass piece of shit grandson who won’t shut the fuck up about the most annoying thing in my life?”

“I didn’t m-mean ‘are you glad I’m your S-S-Soulmate,’” Morty ventured. “I m-m-mean are you glad. In general. About having a Soulmate.”

“Maybe if I were 30 years younger,” said Rick. He tipped his flask against his lips. “Now? It’s just obnoxious. I spent my whole life doing my own shit, I don’t want to be saddled with anyone else’s. _Especially_ not your highschool bullshit. ‘Waah, some asshole stole my lunch money,’ like...get over it Morty. Nothing matters and the sooner you accept that the better your life will be.”

“Right,” Morty said, chastened. 

He didn’t know why he had expected any differently. If Rick had been glad to have a Soulmate he would have worked his way around to accepting Morty by now, surely. Right? Morty stole another look at Rick, who was busy drinking. The sharp contours of his face had looked harsh the first time Morty had laid eyes on him, but by now they just looked strikingly handsome. He was a little on the thin side, but well muscled; lean, rather than skinny. Before Rick, Morty hadn’t really come to grips with the fact that he was interested in men as well as women, but now...well, now fantasies about taking Rick’s cock occupied roughly half his waking moments. 

He needed to get out of here. Maybe he would go upstairs and have a wank, give himself a little burst of serotonin. He hopped down from the table but he pushed off wrong and lost his balance. He put out his hand to catch himself…

And found himself face to face with an irate Rick Sanchez.

His hand had found its way onto his grandfather’s thigh--blessedly, a clothed area, but still. He had been told not to touch, and here he was. 

Touching. 

Very, very intimately.

Morty realized that he could feel Rick’s cock twitching right by his hand, and he drew back in fear, backing away from his grandfather with terror in his heart. 

“I’m s-s-s-s-sorry,” he cried, inching his way back across the garage. 

Rick rolled fluidly to his feet and stalked after him until Morty’s back bumped into the shelves. Rick put his hands on the upper shelf, on either side of Morty’s head, boxing him in. Morty felt himself crying and it humiliated him.

“You need to cut this flirting shit _out_ ,” Rick growled at him. “It’s not cute.”

He leaned in. Morty’s eyes went wide as he watched Rick draw closer to him. Rick’s face dipped into the crook of Morty’s neck. He could feel his breath against his skin. Morty held his breath, terrified to twitch a single muscle. If he brushed skin-to-skin against Rick he would never see him again; he was sure of that.

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” Rick’s voice was velvety where it buzzed in Morty’s ear. “I could split you wide open, take you apart, _ruin_ you forever. I could leave you more broken than you can even imagine, Morty.”

Morty swallowed and tried to still his trembling lower lip. Tears dripped down his cheeks and from the end of his nose. This wasn’t how this was supposed to be. He was supposed to find his Soulmate, fall in love, and live together happily ever after. He was willing to work with what he had been given. Why was Rick so cruel to him?

“What did I do?” he whispered. “What did I do to you?”

Rick pulled back and looked down at him through flinty eyes. “You were born, Morty.”

Morty ducked out from under Rick’s arms and ran into the house, slamming the door behind him. He ran past his stunned sister and mother in the living room and bolted up the stairs into his bedroom. 

Immediately he began to rifle his bookshelves, opening boxes and turning over containers until he found it.

The Xacto knife that he used to make his giant robot models.

Throwing himself onto the bed, he wriggled out of his pants and pushed his boxers up higher on his thigh. He was smart enough to do this someplace no one would notice, at the very least. For a long time he hesitated with the blade just above his skin, watching how it glinted in the moonlight.

And then? Then came the blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Self harm


	4. Chapter 4

“Get your head out of your ass!” Rick shouted, ducking back around the corner, just managing to dodge a spray of gunfire.

Across the corridor his grandson nodded grimly. He took in and let go of a shaky breath before popping out into the hallway, firing off three rapid shots and then taking cover again. Rick heard a body hit the ground, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. Morty had been getting better and better as the months passed. The little piece of shit was turning into a real crack shot. Not that he’d ever tell him so. They had a good thing going--adventuring partners by night, adversaries by day. Rick was constantly haranguing Morty just to keep him from getting too cocky about the Soulmates thing, but it was hard as hell to keep the boy down. He seemed to bounce back no matter what Rick ever said to him. It was infuriating.

“ _Rick_!” Morty shouted, his tone suggesting it wasn’t his first attempt to get his attention. “They’re getting way too close, Rick! I d-d-don’t like this, Rick! Do something!”

“Alright, alright!” Rick yelled back. He was so annoyed. Morty was a capable young man. His inability to have any faith in himself pissed Rick off for reasons he preferred not to examine. Maybe it had something to do with Rick’s own attitudes towards himself, or maybe it had something to do with the incongruence with the way he himself saw Morty. It didn’t matter much right now. Not much mattered just at the moment besides his frustration and his enemies.

Rick reached into his labcoat pocket and pulled out a whistle-like device. He rolled out of cover and blew into it. A flurry of purple bubbles flew out of the end and drifted down the hallway. When bullets connected with them, the bubbles enveloped the slugs and instantly stopped their momentum. More of the bubbles floated down the corridor and attached themselves to the ends of the red scaly aliens’ guns, stopping up the muzzles. Now safe, Rick stood in the middle of the hallway with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Guess I had that situation under control without your dumb little ass, Morty,” he said, smirking widely. “Morty?” 

Rick looked over his shoulder and froze. Two big green aliens had come out of a room behind him, one they had already cleared as they advanced on the compound’s control room. The two were locked in a standoff with Morty, both looking nervous but mostly in charge of the situation as Morty shifted his aim from one to the other and then back.

“Jesus, he’s just a kid,” said the taller of the two.

“I don’t care; he has a gun!” the other one answered. He looked jumpy. Rick didn’t like that at all. He felt cold inside, dumb and slow.

Three things happened at roughly the same time. Rick raised his arm and swiveled toward the two newcomers. Morty’s gun went off. So did the nervous alien’s. 

A split second later, Rick shot, as well. Two aliens dropped to the floor.

So did Morty.

There was so much blood. Rick gritted his teeth and, with a horrifying precision, he picked off the remaining enemies who were still struggling with their bubble-jammed guns. His hand was trembling but his brain was overloaded with adrenaline that gave him a keen eye. Time seemed to dilate. Rick knelt down at Morty’s side, feeling hot blood soak into his slacks. Morty’s face was pale, his eyes half lidded.

“I th-think I’m d-d-d-dying, Rick,” he choked out. His hand was pressed over a hole in his gut as if he were shyly hiding it. 

“No you’re fucking not,” Rick growled. “Not on my watch, do you hear me, _Morty_? You can die _when I say you can_ , Morty!” His voice was high and tight. 

He could barely hear what he was saying and he didn’t care. He fished out the portal gun, smearing blood all over his labcoat, and shot a portal into the wall. When he lifted Morty in his arms, the boy let out a pained noise that shot all the way into Rick’s heart and plucked out his courage, throwing it away to the wind. Rick was scared. Terrified. Morty was so light and there was _so much blood_. It was claret-dark, unlike anything that Rick had ever seen before, not the cheerful red Rick had become used to from paper cuts and skinned knees.

Morty’s eyes were beginning to flutter closed as they stepped through the portal. Rick shook him, earning a sharp cry of pain and a moment of laser-focused, desperate eye contact.

“Guess what, Morty?” Rick said as he carried him further down into the underground bunker that he’d spent the last six months excavating. “Your eyes. They’re green. Remember how you asked me that one time, Morty? They’re as green as that forest on Glubnub 8. You liked that forest a lot, Morty,” he babbled.

“I kn-know, Rick. I figured that out. From seeing the grass outside.” Morty winced as Rick put him down on a gurney that he had installed for alien dissection. In the bright medical lights he looked even worse than he had back at the alien compound, pale and a little bit of sickly grey. “Rick, stop. Stop, Rick. Y-you aren’t g-g-gonna do any good. I’m done for.”

“Oh yeah, Morty? Are you the scientist here, Morty?”

“Rick,” said Morty. His hand shot out and grasped Rick weakly by the sleeve. “I don’t want to d-d-die alone. Please j-just stop.”

Rick closed his eyes and counted to three, stuffing his fury back down inside himself. He was afraid for Morty, honestly, and the kid didn’t deserve for his last experience on earth to be Rick shouting at him. 

“Ok, fine,” Rick bit out. He took out his phone and hit a quick dial setting.

“‘Lo?” said a sleepy voice on the other end, the tones a twin to his own gravelly baritone. 

“Wake your ass the fuck up and meet me in K-331 at 12.8751x9327. Stat, motherfucker,” he added, and hung up. “Alright, Morty, hold on--just hold on one second.”

Rick easily extracted his arm from Morty’s weak grip and headed out of the room.

Don’t go.

He froze. His mind whirled. And yes, there it was, a little presence niggling at the bottom of his consciousness. The situation had been so dire that Rick hadn’t considered the consequences of touching Morty; he had acted without thought. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the string of foreign thoughts floating through his mind. 

_I don’t want to be alone. Come back. I’m afraid._

_I love you_.

Rick growled as he grabbed a rolling chair and pushed it back toward the operating room. Well, he’d really done it this time. He would never be alone again. Wonderful. He was scowling by the time he got back to Morty’s side, and he sat down. He tried to clamp down on his thoughts, seeking privacy, while a gasping Morty fished for his hand. Reluctantly, he took Morty’s palm and laced their fingers together. It was so cold to the touch. Fear began to tint Rick’s thoughts, . Morty frowned up at him.

“I knew it,” he murmured. He smiled a red smile at Rick. “It’s ok. It’s ok, Rick. You don’t have to feel bad--it’s not your fault.”

“Get out of my head, Morty,” Rick said, his voice flat and even. _Just breathe. Just breathe._

A portal opened by the foot of the gurney and Surgeon Rick came out of it, trailed by a Nurse Morty. 

“Jesus, you really meant ‘stat,’” didn’t you?”

“What, was I talking just to hear the sound of my own voice?”

“Usually.”

“Just fix him!” Rick roared. 

Surgeon Rick held his hands up in front of himself, and then set his bag on the wheeled table beside the bed. “I don’t suppose you have anaesthetic?”

“If I had anaesthetic don’t you think he’d be anaesthetized by now?”

“I could go back for--”

“I fucking told you to FUCKING FIX HIM!!”

Surgeon Rick busied himself putting on gloves and a mask while his nervous Morty did the same. “I need to stop working for Ricks,” he sighed. “Morty--”

“Yes?” said Nurse Morty.

Surgeon Rick pinched the bridge of this nose. “The other Morty.”

Rick’s attention went back to his own Morty, whose eyes were now closed and whose breath was coming in shallow hiccups. “Morty,” he said, jostling his shoulder. “Morty!”

MORTY!!!

Morty’s eyes flew open. “--ick,” he tried, throat dry and raw.

“He’s one tough cookie, isn’t he?” Surgeon Rick said appreciatively. “Morty, I’m giving you a little something now, but this is still gonna hurt like a bitch. If you feel yourself starting to pass out...probably best to just go with it.”

“Just keep looking at me, Morty,” Rick said, squeezing Morty’s hand as the nurse injected him with a localized painkiller. “That’s it, that’s my good boy. Don’t look down.”

“R-R-Rick...that just makes me want to look down.” He let out a cough that Rick was pretty sure he meant as a laugh. “Thank you. For holding my hand.” He pressed his eyes closed and shuddered as Surgeon Rick began to operate.

_It hurts. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t…_

“Yes you can, Hey. Yes you can.” Rick smoothed ringlets off of Morty’s sweaty forehead. “This is going to be over before you know it.”

“Rick,” Morty whispered, clearly beginning to feel a little loopy from the drugs, “there’s another you in h-here. And another me.” He paused. “In a dress.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you all about that when you’re all better.”

“Rick. I think I’m going to throw up…”

“Could you please keep him fucking quiet?” Surgeon Rick asked tersely. 

“Shh, baby,” Rick soothed. He continued to pet Morty’s brow. He reached out his mind, hesitating for only a moment, and brushed it against Morty’s. He saw the boy shiver and gulp down his first deep breath since coming here. Rick projected to him the image of a circle expanding and collapsing at a slow and steady pace. _Breathe with me_ , he thought to him. 

As Morty drifted off into a fitful slumber, Rick kept his thoughts tucked against his grandson’s like a thumb on his pulse. His thready dreams formed, drifted, and reformed in Rick’s mind’s eye. Silence fell around him as the medics worked.

When the surgery was over, Surgeon Rick discarded his bloody gloves and leaned back against the counter that rimmed the room, sipping from his flask.

“K-331, huh?” asked Surgeon Rick. His eyes were on his Nurse Morty, who was stuck with the cleanup. It must have been par for the course because the boy wasn’t complaining. “That’s a Soulmate universe.”

Rick ground his teeth together. “What’s it to you, punk?”

Surgeon Rick shrugged. “You know you called your Morty ‘baby,’ right? _Out loud_. Just saying, you might want to keep a tighter lid on that shit if you’re not taking him to live on the Citadel now that your, you know, bond is solidified.”

“Yeah, keep on thinking you know dick about anything.”

“I just did you a favor, motherfucker,” Surgeon Rick said. “I could have done you one sooner if you hadn’t gone and given in. I’ve done unbonding surgeries on other Ricks, you know.”

Rick, in fact, had _not_ known that. “I didn’t _give in_ ,” Rick snapped. “He was _dying_.” There was a contentious silence between them for a moment. “And anyway who said he was my Soulmate?”

“You, basically, just now, dipshit. And you know you could have just gotten a replacement Morty if he’d bit it. You definitely had a choice K-331. And you made it.” Surgeon Rick punctuated his pronouncement with a swig from his flask. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Rick muttered, defeated. 

“You know, there’s lots of Ricks on the Citadel who are b-b-boinking their Mortys,” Nurse Morty spoke up suddenly. Both Ricks gaped at him, but he went on. “I m-mean, if Ricks weren’t into Mortys, then why would I have to wear this stupid fucking uniform?”

Surgeon Rick laughed and winked at Rick K-331.

“Just because other Ricks...I’m not a pervert. Ok, I am a pervert, but not like _that_.” Rick paused. “And anyway I don’t have to justify myself to a fucking Morty.”

“Man oh man, Rick, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Surgeon Rick chuckled. “How long?”

“8 months,” Rick sighed. He pulled his own flask out of his pocket and took a long pull at it. “You don’t understand. The Soulmate bond...it’s like the best drug you’ve ever done. I couldn’t just let him go down. I’d rather die, myself.”

Surgeon Rick whistled. “You poor, sick son of a bitch.”

“Hey, at least I’m not the one sitting in a stupid clubhouse fucking my own grandson. I’m resisting temptation over here.”

“What can I say? I’ve always been a sucker for temptation.”

“What about you?” Rick asked the nurse Morty. “Do you _really_ want to be shagging his wrinkly old ass?”

Nurse Morty shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“See? I bet yours does, too.”

“I don’t give a shit what he wants. He’s basically a baby--he knows jack shit about the world.” Rick didn’t want to think about his secret motivations. His self loathing, his fear of abandonment, their many many intersections. One look at Rick’s body and Morty would go back to his age-appropriate dreams of Jessica’s soft body.

“They’re about to be 18,” Surgeon Rick pointed out. 

“Age is just a number.”

“Your age is--” Nurse Morty started.

“Nope. You’ve seen our balls. By our age it’s definitely more than a number.”

“Good luck with your little moral conundrum, K-331,” said Surgeon Rick. “Me and Morty have a date with a mattress. You had to get the kid shot in the middle of the night? Geez. Anyway, adios, amigo.” He shot a portal and disappeared into it along with his Morty, leaving Rick and his own Morty alone in a room silent and reeking of blood.

At first Rick just sat in the stillness and watched his grandson breathe. It wasn’t long, though, before he grew restless. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings in the most uncomfortable way. He didn’t know what he was going to do now that he would be sharing a mindspace with Morty. He didn’t want his darkest thoughts to infect the boy’s light. He had to find a way to keep it all to himself. There had to be a way.

He took out his phone and brought up Surgeon Rick’s phone number again, and shunted off at text message.

>>You said you’ve done Soulmate-reversal surgeries before?<<

>>yah y? Im tired bro<<

>>Can you figure out how to do it once the bond has been solidified? I’ll pay.<<

>>probly. Im goin to sleep now ill hit u up l8r buh bye<<

What a fucking moron. Rick couldn’t believe he was actually considering letting that guy do brain surgery on him. 

Rick’s skin was feeling both slimy and itchy where his shirt was plastered to him with Morty’s blood, and frankly he was disgusted to still be sitting around in it when he realized. The smell had become all pervasive in the dissection room and he’d forgotten all about it until now. With a weary sigh he pushed himself up to his feet and left the room and padded to the small living space he had built in the front, right under the hatch. He spent some time under a very cold shower, staring at water swirling down the drain. He was a fucking sicko, that much was perfectly clear by now. What would it hurt to indulge a little? 

He wrapped his hand around his cock, and despite the cold water it only took a few slow pumps to breathe life into the old organ. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, holding himself up with a flat palm against the wall, taking some of the burden off of his legs. He began to stroke it, nice and slow at first, his thoughts floating to the only fantasy that he could get it up for anymore.

 _Morty_. Morty on his knees, those tiny, soft lips open for him. Morty spread wide open under him, looking up at him with those big green eyes half-lidded in lust. Morty, with Rick’s name on his tongue. Only Rick’s name ever again, forever. He pounded his fist furiously up and down his length. His breath was starting to hitch, his stomach was starting to tighten--

_Rick._

Shit. Morty’s presence at the back of his mind pushed him over the edge, and though he struggled to keep his mind blank he couldn’t help but be drawn into his own orgasm. His body shuddered violently through the pleasure of it. _Fuck_. He reached out hesitantly with his mind as he turned off the water. 

_I’m here_ , he sent to Morty, quickly and loudly as he could. Maybe he could distract from what he was pretty sure Morty had witnessed if he just didn’t dwell on it. _I’m coming_.

Rick dried off and dressed hurriedly. He filled a basin with warm water as well as grabbing a few other things before he headed back to the dissection room. 

Morty sat up as Rick came into the room, probably hearing the quiet slap slap of his feet on the hard floor. Rick plopped the basin down onto the bedside table and threw a washcloth into it. 

“Lay back,” he ordered Morty, who obeyed quietly, staring at Rick through wide round eyes. Rick wrung out the washcloth and started dabbing the dried blood off of Morty’s chest and stomach. 

“You’re all wet,” said Morty after a moment.

“I took a shower.”

“Oh.”

When Rick only grunted and went on with the sponge bath, Morty continued.

“I didn’t m-m-m-mean to, Rick,” he rushed on.

Rick dabbed a splodge of blood off of Morty’s cheek and then threw the cloth back into the basin, finished. “Didn’t mean to what, Morty?” he asked wearily. “Sit up.” Morty obeyed, and Rick pulled his old MIT sweatshirt on over the boy’s head. Morty immediately buried his face in the long sleeves that covered his hands. 

“Touch you,” he breathed. “I d-didn’t mean to touch you. Please don’t g-g-go away, Rick.”

Rick sighed. “I’m not going away, Morty,” he said, as dryly as he could manage. Emotion was threatening to choke him, but he bit it back. “But you stay the fuck out of my brain, Morty. There’s shit in here that’s not for you, you understand?” He thrust a capri sun into Morty’s hands. “Drink this.”

“O-ok, Rick. I’ll try my b-best. It’s really hard, though.” He sucked on the straw obediently, averting his eyes from Rick’s. “Your thoughts are r-r-really loud.”

“Great. Just what I wanted to hear. Finished?” 

Morty nodded and Rick took the empty drink pouch away from him. He bent down and scooped Morty up without difficulty, holding him chest-to-chest with Morty’s arms around his neck and his legs around his waist. He shot a portal and the pair of them stepped through it and emerged in Morty’s bedroom. Rick gently laid him down in his bed and settled down on his aching old knees beside it. 

“No, Morty,” he said, answering the boy’s mental question aloud, “I’m not going anywhere. Go the fuck to sleep.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR content warning but also Major Spoiler for this chapter in End Notes

Over the next few weeks, Morty was hounded by Rick during all of his waking hours. His brain felt like oatmeal. All in the name of training their psychic link--or rather, training Morty out of using the psychic link. He was tired all the time now from the constant exertion that it took to block Rick’s thoughts out of his head. He thought Rick seemed tired lately, too, but it was a little hard to tell. Morty wouldn’t have been surprised if it took Rick no effort at all to keep up his part of their bargain. 

Morty felt more alone than ever.

One day at school, nearly nodding off into his applesauce, Morty jumped when a tray was set down loudly onto the table across from him. He looked up and froze when he saw that Jessica had sat down across from him. She smiled at him and straightened the sleeves of her lavender blouse before picking up her fork.

“Hey. Morty, right?”

“J-J-Jessica,” he squeaked, trying to sit up straight and banging his arm against the underside of the table. “Ow.” 

She laughed, but not unkindly. “You’ve seemed down lately. I thought I would check on you.”

He stared at her. When he _realized_ he’d been staring, he looked down at his untouched lunch. “I’m fine.”

“Morty, it’s ok to talk to me. I’m a student liaison for the school counselor. I’m, like, obligated to keep your secrets to myself.”

“Oh.” He wished she hadn’t told him that. It would have been nice to be cared about with no ulterior motives. “I’m fine, Jessica, really.”

“Ok, Morty. If you say so. Do you mind if I still eat here?”

He nodded mutely, and she opened her chocolate milk and gave him a smile. Some time passed, and the silence between them became warmer and more companionable. Morty watched her out of the corner of his eye, considering. He didn’t think Jessica would spread rumors about him. He had crushed on her for so long that he knew she was a kind and caring person, unlike a lot of her popular friends. Maybe she had noticed him noticing her and this was her revenge, but he really didn’t think so. There was no one else in his life that he could talk to about his problems, and he was so, so lonely.

“Jessica?”

“Hm?”

“I met my Soulmate,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Wow, Morty, that’s really exciting,” she said, delicately putting down her fork.

“Not really,” he said glumly. “He...he doesn’t want me.”

“Oh.” Jessica sidestepped his bisexual admission and got straight to the heart of the matter. “Why do you think that he doesn’t want you? Did you, like, ask him? I mean, he _is_ your Soulmate…surely--”

“I didn’t have to a-ask. He t-t-told me.” Morty’s lip was quivering despite himself. “I got about f-five minutes to d-d-daydream and then he shut me down.”

“Ok, that’s not cool at all. Can you ask an adult to, I don’t know, get you guys some group therapy or something?”

“W-w-w-well that’s part of the problem. He’s...it’s kind of an inappropriate pairing, haha,” he said nervously.

“How so?”

“He’s...older.”

“Ah. But...that happens to people, like, all the time,” she said. “And I bet once you’re 18 he’ll come around. In the meantime you can at least tell your family, right? They’ll support you.”

“Not exactly…”

“Oh,” she said, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Morty. You can come talk to me any time.” She gave him a sunny smile that would have made him weak in the knees less than a year ago. She leaned forward on her elbows, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “So. What’s it like to see colors? I’ve heard it’s like majorly mindblowing.”

A few days later he was walking out of the locker room with his head hanging after last-period gym class. He almost ran into Brad and Jeremy, who were on their way in. They kept pressing forward, forcing Morty to backpedal. He didn’t like their expressions, sharp and glinting with mischief. 

“Morty,” Brad said in a singsong voice. “You been talking to Jessica again.”

Morty froze, caught under the stares of the two larger boys. He was a senior, yeah, but so were they. And he hadn’t grown much over the past few years. Unarmed, there wasn’t anything he could do to defend himself here. He naturally fell into a defensive pose, arms coming up in front of his chest. 

“Sh-sh-she’s a counselor,” he mumbled, wanting to defend himself but loathe to admit that he needed therapy.

The boys both snickered. Each of them took one of Morty’s arms, holding him with ruthless grasps by his biceps. He struggled uselessly as they dragged him back further into the locker room.

“Yo, that’s no excuse,” Brad said. “We’re gonna teach you a lesson, Smith.” He chuckled darkly, and Morty whimpered. They dragged him into the abandoned shower room and turned on the taps. Morty realized quickly that the steam would keep people away. “Get his pants, Jer.”

At that, Morty began to _truly_ panic. This wasn’t going to be the usual beatdown under the stairs. As Brad moved behind him and grabbed him under the arms in a full nelson, Jeremy went for Morty’s fly. Morty kicked his legs as hard as he could, but Jeremy managed to wrestle his pants down, along with his boxers. 

“This will go easier if you hold still,” Jeremy said as he worked on his own belt buckle. “Come take your medicine.”

Morty felt the blood rush out of his face. This was happening. This was really happening. His eyes rolled up, trying to catch Brad’s gaze.

“Please, p-p-p-please, I w-w-won’t talk to Jessica e-ever again, I s-s-swear,” Morty begged, blind with tears. “P-p-p-p-please d-d-don’t do this…”

“Just hurry up, Jer, Jesus. We don’t have a lookout.”

“Hold him tighter, then. He’s slippery as fuck.”

Morty pressed his eyes closed and felt tears slip down his cheeks, scalding hot. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

_RICK!!!!!_

Jeremy was prising his knees apart. He was standing between Morty’s legs, picking his knees up and placing them on his shoulders. Morty was wriggling, trying to slip out of his grasp, beating his heels against Jeremy’s back as hard as he could…

A green neon light flooded the showers. Rick walked out of the portal, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded. “This better be good, you little shit,” he was already grumbling on his way in.

Morty, through a tear-blurred haze, watched understanding inflate Rick’s features. His fury filled the room like crackling static. Jeremy dropped Morty’s legs and turned toward Rick, demanding to know what the fuck he was doing there. 

Rick just reached into his inner pocket and pulled out his blaster. He leveled it at Jeremy with a steady hand. “Get the fuck away from him,” Rick commanded in a voice not to be disobeyed. “You, too, you jock asshole.”

“Or what, you going to shoot us with your supersoaker?”

Rick shot the laser pistol at the ceiling, bringing down a shower of plaster onto all of their heads. Brad and Jeremy dropped Morty on his ass and backed away from Rick, who stalked after them until their backs hit the wall. 

“Turn around,” he ordered.

The boys obeyed. Rick cocked the gun again. He spared Morty a single glance before turning his attention back to his tormentors. Without another word, Rick shot Jeremy in the back of the head. A spray of blood covered the white wall behind him, and his corpse slumped to the floor with a sickening thud. Brad started screaming mindlessly, and Rick aimed the blaster at him next. 

“Rick!” Morty cried, reaching out and catching the bottom of Rick’s trouser leg. “Rick! You can’t just k-k-kill them!” He was horrified. His stomach turned over and he puked on the tile beside his knees. Morty had killed, yes, but never a human. And he had never seen a human corpse before--much less someone he actually knew. The fact that Jeremy had been tormenting him mere moments before...well, on the one hand Morty was relieved, but on the other hand it just made him sicker.

“Fucking watch me.”

“P-please?”

Rick stared at him for a long time, a battle raging behind his sapphire eyes. Morty wiped at his tears. He had no choice but to accept whatever decision Rick made. He just hoped it was one he could live with. Rick’s expression flickered back and forth between fury and something softer, something unreadable. 

Rick growled and turned back to Brad and swiftly shot him in the leg. He crouched down over him when the boy fell screaming and clutching at his bleeding wound. 

“Now drag your ass out of here,” said Rick, low and dangerous. “And if you tell anyone what you saw, I’ll be visiting you in your room tonight. Give you a little taste of your own medicine.”

While Brad crawled away whimpering, Rick knelt over Morty, his hands hovering over the boy as if he were too fragile to touch.

“Did they hurt you?” he murmured, searching Morty’s face with a soft gaze.

Morty shook his head. “N-n-no.” He sniffled, emotion welling up in him again. “You c-came.”

“Of course I came. You were loud enough, Jesus.”

Rick looked guilty, though, and Morty suspected that his grandfather had considered ignoring his summons. Morty pushed his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead and tried to smile at Rick. The smile melted, though, when he saw Rick staring open-mouthed at his thighs. Morty scrambled to pull up his pants, but Rick just knocked his hands out of the way.

“Morty. What is this?” 

His fingers ghosted over the cuts, both healed and fresh, in between Morty’s thighs. Morty turned his face away, cheeks burning. He hadn’t thought anyone would ever see those, especially not Rick.

“N-nothing,” Morty muttered.

“‘ _Nothing_ ,’” Rick repeated back in a mocking tone. He grabbed Morty by the back of his teeshirt and pulled him through a new portal. “Nothing, my ass, little bitch…”

Morty started crying again as Rick threw him onto the couch in the hatch. The tv was still on; Rick must have been down here watching when Morty called for him. 

Rick lowered himself to his knees in front of Morty. He gently smoothed his rough hands up the tops of Morty’s thighs, his thumbs brushing against the cuts. Morty hissed as calloused fingers crossed fresh wounds, and Rick foze. After a moment, he turned his gaze up toward Morty’s face.

“Why?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

Morty choked back something that was either a sob or a laugh--probably a little of both. “Why? W-w-what do you th-think, R-R-Rick?” He was feeling delirious from bouncing between emotions like a ping pong.

He saw Rick wince. Inside of himself, the floodgates were wide open, and he reached through them to claw at Rick’s mind, suddenly desperate to get in. Rick caught his eye and, huffing an uneven breath, he opened his mind to Morty.

_Pain. So much--No, not there, don’t look there. Turned away, Morty looks back at himself as in a mirror, his hair backlit with a subtle halo. Worry. He’s going to be like me, it’s all my fault. I should have...should have…_

_I should have done this a long time ago._

Rick surged forward and caught Morty’s lips with his. His hands came up, his fingers curling under Morty’s jaw as he pulled him into the kiss. 

Caught off guard, Morty froze for a moment. When he melted into Rick, it was with a long moan. He reached out, fisting his hands in Rick’s labcoat and yanking him closer inelegantly. It was Rick’s turn to moan. His arms snaked around Morty’s neck, his fingers tangling in the boy’s curls. Their tongues lashed together in clumsy passion. Morty was shaking all over despite the warmth of Rick’s body over his. 

As Rick patiently schooled Morty to a slower pace with long, slow strokes of his tongue, though, his thoughts began to change.

_No._

_NO! What are you doing you old--_

The barrier between their minds slammed closed, and Rick pushed back from Morty, breaking out of his desperate grasp. He knelt before him panting, his eyes wide with something that looked to Morty like fear. 

“Noooo,” Morty wailed. His hands were still bunched in the labcoat, and he tried to tug Rick forward again. Rick resisted firmly. “Rick, n-n-n-n-no…”

“Pull your pants up, Morty.” Rick was breathing hard through his nose. 

Morty didn’t see any alternative here. Weeping, he pulled up his jeans and fastened the button, looking down at his hands to avoid looking at Rick.

“P-please, Rick,” he begged, his voice cracked wide open with sobs. The air around them was heavy and dim, providing no comfort. Morty folded his arms around himself. “What d-d-do I h-have to do, Rick?! I j-just want you to l-l-love me…”

Rick gave a frustrated groan, grasping Morty by the shoulders with bruising intensity and shaking him. “That’s the problem, _Morty_ , you little imbecile! Think for once!” He shoved him back against the back of the couch. “How fucked up are you going to be someday when you wake up and realize that grandpa diddled you and you just let him ‘cause the rest of your family sucks?!”

“I don’t c-c-care, Rick! Th-this has nothing to do with anyone else!”

“Bullshit, Morty. Bull-fucking-shit.”

“I mean it, Rick!” His shoulders were heaving, tears streaming from his eyes. “You’re s-supposed to be my S-S-Soulmate. No one should matter to us but...us. R-Rick and Morty f-f-forever and ever…”

“Oh, well, why don’t we talk about _that_ , then, hmm? Because I won’t be around forever, Morty. I’m going to die. Yeah, you like that? What about when ‘nobody but us’ turns into ‘Morty alone in the world?’”

Morty didn’t have an answer for that. He hadn’t given much thought to his life after Rick, not since the moment they first locked eyes.

“That j-just means w-we need to make this time c-count,” Morty pleaded. He scrubbed at his eyes. Rick brushed his hands out of the way and used his sleeve to wipe away tears.

“You can make it count by finding someone who’s worth it, Morty,” he said flatly. “Just because they’re not your Soulmate doesn’t mean you can’t find someone good for you.” Rick climbed to his feet with a groan at his popping knees. “Jesus Christ, I’m getting too old for that. Look. I have an errand to run on the Citadel. Stay here for as long as you need to. I’ll be back.”

Morty sniffled. His tears seem to have dried up, and he was so tired. “O-ok, Rick.” He laid himself out on the couch and grabbed the throw blanket off the top. “Rick? I’m n-n-not going to find a-anyone else. I’m gonna wait for you.”

Rick sighed longsufferingly. “Whatever you say, Morty.” He shot a portal and stepped through it, leaving Morty all alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: attempted sexual assault


	6. Chapter 6

Rick pressed the doorbell again and stood tapping his toe against the ground. He checked his watches, finding the one that was synced to the Citadel. 9AM. The bastard liked to sleep in, but Rick didn’t care. He rang the doorbell five times in a row, and Nurse Morty finally opened the door.

“What?!” the Morty snapped at him. “What’s so important? We’re off duty.”

Rick pushed past him into a cluttered front room. The narrow windows let morning light in, giving the scene a frozen-in-time quality that unsettled Rick. He felt like he could feel his life ticking by him.

“Where’s your Rick?” K-331 demanded. “I need to talk to him _right fucking now_.”

“Ok, ok, Jesus. Hold on one minute.”

Rick stayed in the front room for what felt like an hour, pacing up and down the length of it. Eventually Surgeon Rick came down the stairs in his ratty greying bathrobe, yawning.

“K-331. What the fuck are you up in my ass about now?”

“Same thing I have been for the past _month_ , dipass. Is the surgery ready yet or what? I’m pretty sick of you taking your sweet time while my life goes to shit.”

Nurse Morty came back with two mugs of coffee, one for each Rick. K-331 peered down into his. It looked like it was made exactly the way he liked it--way too light and absolutely wrecked with sugar. He liked people to think he took it black, but he supposed a Morty would already know some of his secrets.

“What the fuck, K-331? You woke me up to bug me about that again? I told you I’d call you!” Surgeon Rick took a long sip of his coffee, took his flask out of his pocket and tipped some of the contents into the mug, and then took another sip. “Much better. Alright, I’ll level with you--I’m theoretically ready to do the surgery at any time, but I don’t think you should.”

“What!” Rick snapped. He forgot himself and accidentally sloshed some of his coffee out onto his shoes. “You said you were going to call me when you figured it out!”

“Yeah, well, I was hoping you’d forget about the whole thing, honestly. It’s not a good idea, K-331.”

“And why, pray tell, is that?”

“One,” said Surgeon Rick, holding up a finger. “I’m an amazing surgeon, but this particular procedure is especially risky. You could wake up retarded. And no, I’m not disparaging the differently-abled--I mean you could literally wake up mentally retarded. Two. The kid deserves better than this, man. Don’t you think you should just...move to the Citadel and shack up?”

“I don’t feel like giving my Morty a disgusting grandpa complex.”

“He probably already has one,” Nurse Morty spoke up. “I’ve talked to a lot of Mortys. You’d be surprised how many of us are crazy about our Ricks. You know, in _that_ way.”

“You’re all too young to even know what you want,” Rick said, feeling himself being dragged into an argument with a goddamn Morty but unable to put a stop to it. “This old pervert has been _molesting_ you for god knows how long, and--”

“Ha! That’s gold,” Surgeon Rick said. “You don’t know anything about us, K-331.”

“Yeah,” Nurse Morty added. “I had to practically jump him just to get him in bed the first time. So I know a little about how your Morty is feeling. Plus it’s way worse ‘cause you’re his flippin’ Soulmate…”

“Just a random mistake of quantum entanglement,” Rick muttered. “It doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

“Well, it means something to your Morty.” The nurse hugged his arms to his stomach. “I feel really bad for him. He’s probably at home thinking about you and you’re here trying to cut him out of your life, basically.”

“He’s still my...my _partner_ ,” Rick said, surprising himself that he felt like he had to justify his choices. “When he’s older he’ll understand.”

“You still wanna do it, K-331? I feel bad for your Morty, but the money you’re offering is too good. I kinda got bills and I can’t really afford to grow a conscience now.”

Rick gave a shrug to Nurse Morty, who was scowling openly at him. “Yup.”

“How’s right now for you?”

“That’s what I was hoping you would say.”

Twelve hours later Rick came back to himself through a fuzzy haze. He blinked his eyes, finding himself staring up at Surgeon Rick.

“Yo, K-331. How many fingers?”

Rick squinted. “Three.”

“Close enough. Welcome back to the land of the living.” 

Surgeon Rick took out his flask, and Rick reached out and snatched it away from him, putting it to his own parched lips. 

“We both know you shouldn’t be drinking that paint thinner right now,” Surgeon Rick complained, but in his alcoholic heart he had sympathy for K-331 and let him drink anyway. “Anyway, how do you feel?”

“Like shit. I’ve never had a headache this bad in my entire life.”

“Yeah, well, three hours ago I was cutting into your brain, so…”

“Yeah, no duh, asshole.” Rick gave back the flask and pushed himself up to a sitting position, hissing in pain as he went. “So how’d it go?”

“You tell me. Feel the little shit rumbling around in there?”

Rick stretched out his senses as far as he could. 

_MORTY!!_

Nothing. No answer. He stayed very still and waited. Still nothing. He felt a grin spread across his face. 

“You did it! You motherfucking did it!”

“Yeah, well, don’t tell your Morty it was me. I don’t want him hunting me down with your portal gun. I like to sleep soundly at night, thank you very much.”

“Don’t worry, asshole, my Morty isn’t like that.”

“Like you would even know,” Nurse Morty snorted from a seat over in the corner. Rick hadn’t noticed him until just now.

“How much did we agree on?” K-331 asked Surgeon Rick, ignoring Nurse Morty. 

Haggling took a good part of the rest of the night, and then came the final checkup and the best part--a big baggie full of drugs. Rick was more or less content when he portaled back into his underground bunker, intending to rest up there for a few days. He was looking down at his phone as he stepped through, sending Morty a text about where he would be. He heard the answering chime of Morty’s text message alert and looked up.

There the boy was on his pull out bed in a nest of blankets, wearing nothing but Rick’s old MIT sweatshirt. Rick double checked his phone for the time. 1:47 on a Thursday afternoon. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Morty warily.

“Hey, uh...sport. Whatcha doing down here?” God, did he sound lame. He was feeling awfully guilty, and he was dreading the moment when Morty found out what he had done. And he didn’t feel like examining just why that was. The longer he could put _that_ off the better.

“I don’t feel so good, Rick,” Morty answered him. He was swaying in his seat looking more than a little green around the gills. Rick _really_ didn’t feel like cleaning up puke right now.

“What’s wrong, Morty?” Rick asked. He scooted forward, a sick sort of dread cooling in his chest, and peered at his grandson. No cuts or bruising, no obvious signs of upper respiratory distress. He felt for swollen lymph nodes, but Morty was fine in that department. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen light, shining it in Morty’s eyes with calm professionalism. Oh geez. He had thought that Morty’s pupils were blown wide because the lighting was shit down here, but no. His pupils were badly dilated. “Morty? Did you hit your head on something?” He began to feel around Morty’s scalp for swelling.

“No. I feel w-w-weird.” The boy was still swaying like the room was tilting beneath him. “Where have you b-been, Rick? I missed you. I c-couldn’t...I couldn’t go back to school..” Morty peered hard at Rick. He reached out and touched the wound on the side of Rick’s head. “What is this?”

“It’s nothing, Morty. Lay back for me. That’s it, good boy.”

Rick took his phone back out in a panic and pulled up Surgeon Rick’s number.

>>Hey asshole, you wanna tell me what’s wrong with my Morty? Does this have something to do with the surgery???<<

>>its an experimental procedure bro. U didn’t want the risks u shouldn’t have said yes<<

>>This isn’t fucking funny. Get over here and fix him.<<

>>wat r his symptoms?<<

>>I don’t know! He just keeps saying he feels weird. His pupils are like dinner plates.<<

>>jus watch him. If he forgets how 2 tlk or theres blood call me. Peace out.<<

“Rick?”

Rick turned his attention back to Morty. He set the phone aside for the time being. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“I meant what I said before, Rick. I’m gonna wait for you forever if I have to.”

Rick sighed. This again. “Morty, if you’re not grown up enough to cope with… _this_ so bad that you’re _actually cutting yourself_ , you’re not grown up enough to decide you’re going to dedicate your whole life to someone.”

“Not _s-s-someone_ , Rick. You.” He shook his head and it made him wince. “My life’s a-already pretty dedicated to you, Rick. Rick and Morty and their adventures, r-r-right?”

“Shut up, Morty.” Rick’s head was killing him. He laid down on the pull out next to Morty. Just a tiny rest. That couldn’t hurt anything, right? “What the fuck do you know.”

“You know I’m right, Rick. That’s why you can’t say anything.” Morty’s eyes went crossed for a moment, and then he frowned. “Where are you, R-Rick?”

“I’m right here, Morty.”

“No, Rick! _Where are you!_?!?”

Morty sat bolt upright in a panic. _Oh fuck, not now_ , Rick internally groaned. He reached out and swallowed Morty up in his long reach, holding Morty’s arms down to his sides and pulling his back firmly against his chest. Morty thrashed in his grip, trying to twist around and face him.

“Shh, Morty. Shh. It’s ok. You’re gonna be ok.” He didn’t know what else to say. His guilt was eating away at him. Great. So he got to feel like a piece of shit no matter _what_ he did. Damned if he did damned if he didn’t. “We’re just gonna be...separate from now on.”

He felt the boy start to cry, his tiny back quaking against Rick’s chest. Rick felt, to his surprise, an answering lump in his own throat. He leaned his forehead against Morty’s shoulder. He had known his decision would be hard on the boy, but he thought he’d at least be able to recover from the fucking surgery before dealing with this. His head was throbbing. He held Morty as tightly as he could until the fight went out of the boy. He shushed him, cooed to him, even rocked him gently back and forth until Morty’s breathing evened out and then slowed as he fell into a shallow sleep. Rick laid his grandson down and dug into his baggie of drugs. He was way too sober for all of this.

Twenty minutes later Rick was royally fucked up and much happier because of it. He peered down at Morty who was sleeping like a little angel, one arm thrown above his head and his lips parted gently. Rick’s old sweatshirt was huge on him, but it was only barely long enough to preserve the boy’s modesty. 

Rick reached out and ran his fingers over the scars lining Morty’s thighs. _I’m not worth it, Morty._

But _oh_ , he wanted to be. He wanted it so badly, more than he had wanted anything since his foolish youth. Maybe Soulmates were a bunch of bunk. Maybe nothing mattered, after all. But if nothing mattered, then… He looked down at the boy. He ran his fingers lightly over Morty’s cheek, brushed his fingertips over his ringlets. Morty stirred in his sleep.

“Rick,” the boy murmured.

That was all it took to undo everything Rick had been fighting for. Drugs and the sound of his own name on his grandson’s lips.

He took Morty in his arms, pulling him to his chest and letting his head loll back. With fondness he watched Morty’s nose wrinkle momentarily before sleep smoothed his features again.

“I love you,” Rick whispered to him. He delicately pushed a stray curl behind Morty’s ear. “I love you, Morty.”

Rick pressed his lips softly against the boy’s. He felt the moment when Morty awoke, the moment of stiffness before he melted into the kiss. Morty’s arms came up and wrapped around Rick’s shoulders. He groaned into Morty’s mouth. No thoughts spared for the future, no ghosts haunting him from the past. Just Rick and Morty, here and now. 

He reached down and wrapped calloused fingers around Morty’s cock, beginning to stroke it slowly. He savored the heat of Morty’s body, the silkiness of his skin, the subtle weight of him in Rick’s spidery hand. Morty shivered against him and thrust his tongue into Rick’s mouth, inexpertly trying to deepen their kiss. Rick patiently schooled him, rolling their tongues together at a slower pace, pressing hard with his lips. Morty’s hands scrabbled at his neck, his hair. A particularly hard tug flared his headache to life, and for a moment he nearly exited his delirium but then Morty was insistently thrusting into Rick’s grasp and it was so delicious that he was drawn back in by it. 

“Slow down, baby. I want you to enjoy this.”

Morty was leaking precome already. Rick swiped his hand over it, using it to lubricate his strokes. Morty groaned appreciatively. Rick’s hand tightened around him. Morty’s hips thrust upwards with no sense of rhythm, fucking himself into Rick’s fist. 

“You like that?” Rick asked, his voice buzzing against Morty’s lips. 

“Yeah, Rick,” Morty whispered back. His ghost-thin voice was wavering.

“Don’t cry, baby. Shh. Grandpa’s gonna--I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He laid Morty back on the bed and crawled between the boy’s legs. Looking down at him, Rick was struck by the power of his own lust. He wanted to drive into the boy, to fuck him like a toy until he lost his mind.

But no, he couldn’t. He wasn’t going to fuck him dry, and he didn’t dare get up to go hunting for lube, lest the spell be broken. This would have to do. He slicked his fingers up with the nectar leaking from Morty’s cock and slipped his fingers into the cleft of Morty’s ass. Morty hissed and stiffened. Rick circled Morty’s entrance with his wet fingers. 

“I need you to relax,” he murmured into Morty’s ear. Their chests were pressed together, and Rick took a few deep breaths in a row. “Breathe with me...that’s it. What a good boy for me…”

When he felt that Morty’s body was sufficiently slack, Rick pressed two fingers inside of him slowly yet insistently. Morty made an appreciative noise that nearly drove Rick insane with lust. He growled. 

Sucking bruises into Morty’s neck possessively, Rick began to move his hand, thrusting in and out of Morty’s hole. The boy was squirming beneath him, rubbing himself against Rick’s stomach. His back arched prettily. Rick kissed his shoulder, his jawline, the shell of his ear, all the while finger fucking him insistently. 

“Riiiick,” Morty whined. He had reached under Rick’s shirt and his nails raked his skin. Rick hissed at the delicious pain of it. God, he wanted more. “Oh g-god, I _neeeeeed_ …”

“I’m getting there, baby.” 

He nipped at Morty’s earlobe and then moved down his body, settling on his stomach between the boy’s legs. Teasingly he breathed warm breath onto Morty’s cock, eliciting a lewd moan. He ran his tongue along the underside of him and then swallowed his head down, pushing against the sensitive glans with his tongue. He lapped up sweet precome from the skin before accepting Morty’s full length into his mouth. Spit dribbled down onto Morty’s balls, slick noises filling up the quiet between them. Morty was breathing raggedly, trying to roll his hips toward the heat of Rick’s mouth, but Rick held him down by his hip. His other hand still worked in and out of Morty’s hole, mirroring the pace of his bobbing head.

Once he felt warmed up enough, Rick relaxed his throat and released Morty’s hips, letting him push up inside. He swallowed around him. Morty cried out above him. Then Rick finally brushed his fingertips up against Morty’s prostate, and Morty outright screamed his name. He kept playing him like an instrument, earning himself a string of utter babble. 

“Rick Rick Rick oh god please _please_ Rick I want you to fuck me oh god please Rick please I want to come oh fuck me fuck me _please_ …” Words dripped over Morty’s lips without cease. 

Rick groaned around the boy, turning Morty’s voice up an octave. He released Morty from his mouth. 

“Don’t ask for things you can’t handle, Morty.” He gave a little twist of his fingers against the boy’s prostate.

Morty screamed for him again. He cracked his bright green eyes and peered down at Rick. “I can d-d-do it,” he breathed. “Please, Rick. I w-want to f-f-feel you inside of me.”

Rick groaned and leaned his forehead against the jut of Morty’s hip. “You can’t talk to me like that, kid.”

“Please? Please, I want you.”

Rick pushed himself up, hovering over Morty. He was drunk on the sight of him. He looked so good laid out beneath him in his own sweatshirt. Before he even knew it he had carefully withdrawn his hand and was working on his belt. Morty tugged on his shirt. Rick let him pull it off over his head before wriggling out of his pants. His dick was leaking liberally, and he used the precome to coat his skin. The friction felt amazing. He rubbed up against Morty, thrusting their cocks together. 

“You going to be a good boy for me?” Rick asked, watching Morty’s lust-painted face. 

“Yes,” he breathed. His hips were moving enthusiastically. 

“I’m gonna make this good for you,” Rick murmured. He coated himself with their precome as much as he could and lined himself up with Morty’s entrance.

“It’s big,” Morty whimpered. Fear had tinted his expression, but Rick was too far gone to stop now. 

“I know, baby. Just breathe with me again.” 

He forced himself to stay calm, to breathe slowly and evenly. Morty mirrored him. On one deep exhale, Rick pushed himself inside all at once. Morty scrabbled at his back again, nails raking, and he screamed. 

“Oh, babe, that feels good,” Rick said. He moved his hips experimentally. “You’re so goddamn _tight_ , Jesus. Oh god, I should have been doing this all along. I’m gonna fuck you every day, Morty. I’m gonna take you apart piece by piece…”

“Too big,” Morty panted beneath him. He squirmed. 

Rick held him down by his shoulders. His face settled into a wicked grin. “Too late, Morty.” He slid his hands downwards to the boy’s hips and held him firmly as he began to hammer into him. He lowered his body until they were chest to chest, Morty’s cock trapped between them. “You’re mine, you’re _fucking mine_ , you hear me?” he growled into the boy’s ear. 

“Yes, Rick!” Morty keened for him, eliciting a growl from deep within Rick’s throat.

Rick’s fingers dug into Morty’s hips with bruising strength. He angled his hips and bore down into Morty’s body as hard and fast as he could, plowing into his prostate over and over again. Morty was wailing beneath him, screaming his throat raw.

“That’s right, baby. Say my name.”

“RICK!!” Morty screamed. His eyes flew open and Rick pinned him down with a stare.

“Touch yourself, baby.”

And Morty’s hand flew to obey, gripping himself firmly and stroking at a furious pace. His eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned deep in his chest.

“Oh shit, Morty, that’s so hot. Fuck yeah, I’m so close.” His head lolled back. The rhythm of his hips began to stutter as he focused on nothing but his own pleasure. 

“I’m c-coming, Riiiiick!” Morty cried out.

That pushed Rick sprawling into his own orgasm, heat flooding around his cock as he milked himself into his grandson’s tight hole. His shaky arms gave out under him and he collapsed onto Morty. For a time they both just breathed, exhausted. Rick was still high as a kite and now he was sleepy, to boot. 

He pulled out carefully and snuggled himself against Morty, preparing himself to fall asleep, when he heard Morty sniffle. His eyes flew open. _No, no_! He had known this would happen, goddamnit, and he had let himself go anyway. _Stupid, selfish idiot_!

“Morty?”

Morty turned a teary face toward Rick. “I got come on m-my favorite sweatshirt,” he bawled.

“Shh, Morty. Come here. You’re just overwhelmed.”

He pulled Morty close, tucking the boy’s head under his chin and just holding him. Morty’s arms slipped around him, holding him loosely as the boy cried. Rick petted his hair, rocking him back and forth. 

“I l-l-love you, Rick,” Morty moaned to him miserably. 

Rick hesitated. _What, old man? You can take his virginity but you can’t say three little words to him_? He gritted his teeth. He wasn’t high enough for this. Rick knew he was going to wake up to a mess, but he’d already made it and there was nothing he could do to take any of this back. So he just kissed Morty on the crown of his head.

“I love you, too, Morty.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did some retooling and now there will be one more chapter after this one. I hope you guys all stay tuned and enjoy the whole rest of the fic. <3 Thank you for sticking with me so far, let's do this!

Rick awoke with a groan. His head was killing him again, so it took him a moment to notice the weight and heat settled on his chest. 

Morty was sleeping like an angel, his face slack and peaceful. Rick self-indulgently ran his fingers through the boy’s mop of soft curls. He was smiling down at him when his mind caught up to his body, filling in everything that he had done while he was high. He recoiled in horror, the smile falling instantly off his face. A trail of dried blood flowed down Morty’s face and spilled onto his milky throat.

“No no no no no no no,” he said before he even knew he was talking. 

Morty stirred. His thick lashes fluttered. “Rick,” he managed, his voice thick. “My head hurts…”

“Shh, keep quiet. Grandpa’s gonna fix this.”

He dressed quickly, scooped Morty up in his arms and grabbed his portal gun from where he’d left it the night before. A moment later they were stepping onto a Citadel street. 

Morty marveled around himself, taking in the sight of dozens of Ricks and Mortys hurrying by down the busy residential street. The artificial sun was high overhead, making the golden buildings gleam and warming Rick’s skin uncomfortably.

“What is this place?” Morty asked in an awed, hushed tone.

“The Citadel. It’s a space station founded by Ricks to keep them safe from the Galactic Federation.”

“It’s amazing. So all these Ricks and Mortys live here?”

“Yup.”

“How come we don’t?”

“Because we’re not fucking sheep. Bastards make you trade in your portal gun for--”

Morty jerked in Rick’s arms, and he scrambled to keep him from dropping. The boy’s muscles were tightening and releasing in waves. His beautiful green eyes were rolled back in his head, his mouth gaping.

“Shit,” Rick hissed. He hurried down the street double time.

When he reached the door of Surgeon Rick’s home practice he kicked at the door, reluctant to loosen his grip on Morty in case he started seizing again. When the door opened he pushed past Nurse Morty without a word. The teen trailed him into the house. 

“We have a patient right now,” he said, rounding Rick and cutting him off from entering the back room.

“He had a fucking seizure.”

“We’ll get it ready for you as fast as possible.” Nurse Morty ducked through a doorway, leaving Rick all alone.

He sat down in a cluttered bay window seat, holding Morty close to his chest. He leaned his head against the window. The sunny day outside felt a thousand miles away, despite the warm light that spilled over his body.

“Please forgive me,” he murmured to the boy, feeling tears leaping to his eyes. “I’m so sorry for what I did.”

Morty shifted in his arms. “What did you do, Rick?” he asked in a small, sleepy voice.

“I--”

The back door banged open. A pissy looking Rick marched out of the home office and scowled at them on his way by. Rick’s head whipped around and he saw Surgeon Rick coming in. 

“Bring him,” he ordered gruffly before turning around, walking further into the complex.

Rick hurried after him and was led to a brightly lit room that was painted a cheerful, clean white. There was a hospital bed in the center, and several large machines attached to arms coming out of the wall. Surgeon Rick nodded toward the bed, and Rick went over and put Morty down very carefully. He covered the boy up to the waist to give him some modesty; he was still only wearing Rick’s old sweatshirt. Nurse Morty elbowed him out of the way. He pushed Morty’s sleeve up and started preparing him for an IV line, popping on a tourniquet and prodding his forearm in search of a good vein.

“What’s going on?” the nurse asked Morty calmly. “Are you having any pain?”

Morty looked away from his nurse, pressing his eyes closed hard when he pricked him with the needle. “Yes,” he said miserably. “My head hurts so much.”

“We’re going to take good care of you.”

Suddenly there was an arm across Rick’s shoulders, and Surgeon Rick was steering him back towards the rest of the house. When Rick tried to wrench his arm free, Surgeon Rick squeezed him harder. 

“Let us take care of it. Go just wait.”

“Fuck that. I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not doing a damn thing for the kid if you don’t go sit your ass in the living room. I’m not doing this with you hovering over my shoulder.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” He pushed Surgeon Rick off. “This is your fault in the first place! The only reason you’re still alive right now is I need you to fix him. Don’t fucking test me.”

“You want to blame someone, look in a mirror. I wanted you to let it go, remember? You insisted.”

“You didn’t tell me this could happen.”

“I told you it was experimental.”

“If I had known…”

Surgeon Rick’s hand fell much more gently between Rick’s shoulder blades. “C’mon, man, go sit and let us work.”

This time Rick went meekly, sagging as he walked down the hall. He dragged himself into the living room and deposited himself on the raggedy couch. The drapes were drawn, and motes stood out in the few beams of sunlight that pierced the room. Laying his head in his hands, he finally began to cry. What had he done? Morty was in danger and it was all his fault. And not only that, but it was all for nothing because Rick had caved immediately. _What a piece of fucking shit you are, Rick Sanchez_. 

The day marched on in a slow creep of light over the living room wall, broken only a few times by updates from Nurse Morty. 

Morty had a mass in his head at the same site as Rick’s surgery had targeted. He needed laser surgery to remove it. They were giving him anticonvulsant drugs. They were starting the surgery. The surgery was finished and they were just waiting for Morty to wake up. Time passed in a haze for Rick. By the time Morty was out of the woods Rick was exhausted from a day and night spent on edge. He dozed off fitfully in the velvet dark living room.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when he became aware of a body standing over him. Sitting up, he dragged his hand down his face and yawned. “How is--” he started, but when he looked up he found, to his surprise, his own Morty standing before him wearing borrowed pajamas. He was a little shaky on his feet, but he had left behind a cushioned wheelchair to hover over Rick.

“What did you do, Rick? The nurse, he wouldn’t tell me what happened to me.” he asked him in a quavering voice.

“Morty.” He reached out hesitantly, laying his hand on Morty’s shoulder. “You’ve got to understand. I was just trying to protect you.”

“What did you _do_ , Rick?!”

“I…” Rick swallowed through a lump in his throat. “I had a surgery to excise the Soulmate bond. Uh, to get rid of it. It affected your brain, too.” His hand tightened in his desperation to get through to Morty. “I wanted to protect you.”

Morty drew his hand back and he slapped Rick across the face with a loud crack. Rick touched his fingers to his stinging cheek and gaped at Morty. The boy was shaking with rage, his face turning red, visible even in the dim of the early morning living room.

“You had _no right_ ,” he managed to croak out. “I hate you! I hate you, I hate you!”

“No, Morty...no…” Rick’s chest clenched around his pounding heart. He slid off of the couch onto his knees in front of Morty. “You have to forgive me, baby. Please forgive me.” His hands roamed over Morty’s body, placating. 

“No. No, Rick, it’s too fucking l-l-late.”

“Please don’t say that.” He held Morty close, laying their cheeks side by side. “I’ll do anything. Anything.”

Hot tears spilled against Rick’s skin. “Make them fix it.”

“They can’t, Morty. It’s gone. I’m so sorry.”

Morty began to wail, and Rick simply held him tight. He let him cry, let him sag against his chest and cry until his legs began to wobble. When he laid him down on the couch he was still weeping. Rick thumbed away his tears patiently. 

“I hate you,” Morty said, his voice soft as fleece.

“I love you, Morty.”

“Don’t--don’t you fucking do that. Don’t do that.”

“I love you. I love you so much.” He needed Morty to understand. He couldn’t lose him now. “Please forgive me. I’ll die if you don’t forgive me.”

Rick clutched at his own chest as his shoulders began to shake with unshed tears. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t be alone anymore now that he had given himself to Morty. Starting to cry, himself, he leaned over Morty and kissed him feverishly. His hands cradled Morty’s face. He could taste the salt of their tears mingling on his lips. 

He held him tightly and refused to move when Morty pushed against him. He stayed put as Morty’s fist pounded into his shoulder. And then Morty was finally melting under him. When he kissed back, it was with impatient hunger. His hands, rather than pushing Rick away, were scrabbling at him, trying to pull him closer. Rick laid his body over Morty’s, chest-to-chest. He could feel Morty hard against his lower stomach. He let him rock up into him, seeking relieving friction.

Finally he broke away, panting. “I’m gonna make you feel really good, Morty. I’m gonna show you how much you mean to me, baby,” he murmured against Morty’s lips. 

He rolled onto the floor, carefully drawing Morty down after him. Morty looked dizzy hovering over him, so he rolled them over one more time, laying Morty down on his back on the floor. He smoothed his hand down his chest and stomach, slipping calloused fingers into the waistband of Morty’s borrowed sleep pants.

Morty groaned appreciatively as Rick took his length in hand, beginning to pump him slowly and deliberately. The noise was electrifying. It zinged right through Rick, straight to his burgeoning erection. He hid his face in the crook of Morty’s neck and growled against his skin, frustrated. This wasn’t about him. He would deal with his own needs later. He forced himself to think, to push his own arousal to the back and to just enjoy Morty’s body. His strokes sped up a little, his hand squeezing Morty’s cock firmly. His lips parted and he kissed up the thin column of Morty’s throat, lips following the thrumming vein. He nipped at Morty’s jaw.

“I think about this at night,” he murmured against his skin. “I think about you on your back underneath me, screaming my name.”

“Rick…”

“Don’t wear it out, baby.”

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Morty’s pants and pulled them down, discarding them along with his underpants. Then he shrugged Morty’s legs up onto his shoulders, holding him up but leaving his shoulders on the floor. He nuzzled at Morty’s inner thighs for a moment, placing glancing kisses on the scars he found there. As his tongue played over Morty’s cock the boy began making little hiccuping noises, but Rick didn’t stop there. He licked past his balls and down into the cleft of his ass. In long, slow strokes he laved his tongue over Morty’s fluttering hole.

Morty cried out and wriggled in Rick’s grasp, but Rick held him still. His tongue pressed firmly against his heat, flicking over it again and again. He licked in a slow circle around and around his entrance while Morty babbled beneath him.

“Oh my god, Rick, Rick, _Rick_! That feels so good, Rick,” he cried. He was jerking in Rick’s arms, twisting himself back and forth. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Rick just gathered up Morty’s wrists in one long-fingered hand and held him still. His tongue pressed into Morty’s heat, lapping at him. Teasing him.

“I can’t take it, Rick, please touch me,” Morty begged.

Rick still held him steady, tormenting him with his tongue. It swirled around and then plunged inside over and over again. It was only when Morty began sobbing in frustration that he stopped. He let Morty fall to the floor undone. For a moment he greedily drank in the sight of the boy spread out below him, eyes unfocused, hair plastered to his brow with sweat. His cock was leaking, lolling over his lower stomach. Rick watched it give a hungry twitch. _Delicious_. 

“Rick,” Morty wailed, reaching up with open arms. Rick let him slide them around him and draw him in for a deep, lingering kiss. “Make love to me,” he whispered when the two finally drew back. “Please.”

“Morty...are you sure?”

“Please, Rick? I want to feel you inside of me again,” he breathed. 

They kissed again, tongues sliding together. _Fuck_. Rick felt his arousal roaring in his veins, hungry for Morty’s body. But he was also worried about Morty’s frail frame. He couldn’t shake the image of the boy seizing in his arms. He tried to focus on the memory to ground himself.

But Morty reached between them and cupped Rick’s erection through his pants. “You want me. I know you do.”

“You’re not making this easy, you little brat,” Rick grumbled. He ran his fingertips reverently down Morty’s cheek.

“Do you care what I want or not?” Morty pushed Rick’s hand away and leaned back so that he could glare at him.

“I do. I do,” Rick answered quickly. “Ok, babe. But you gotta let me go slow, ok? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Something dark flashed behind Morty’s eyes, but he nodded in agreement. Rick turned Morty around, holding him with his back against his own chest. Feeling Morty breathing against him was delicious, and he took a moment just to savor the rise and fall of his back. Then he reached forward and began to slowly pump Morty’s erection in his warm hand. Morty shuddered in his arms and sighed in satisfaction. Rick used leaking precome to lubricate his strokes, and he quickly had Morty panting in his arms, his hips rolling into Rick’s touch. 

“That’s my good boy,” Rick cooed in his ear as his hand began to roam. “I’m going to take you apart, Morty. I’m going to show you who...who _I_ belong to.”

He gently kneaded Morty’s balls, stroked his perineum, and gradually made his way back to Morty’s heat. The area was still slick with his saliva, and it was easy to intrude with one finger and then another. He began to pump them in and out, adding a little beckoning motion every few strokes that had Morty gasping. Rick held him around the chest and began fingering him with vigor, fucking his fingers into Morty. He squeezed Morty close as the boy began to wriggle, pushing back against his fingers. Morty’s own hand went down to his weeping cock, but Rick knocked it away.

“Only I get to touch you,” Rick growled into his ear.

“Rick!” Morty begged. “That’s not fair!”

“You’re getting what you asked for, Morty. Now be a good boy or I’ll stop.”

Morty whimpered, but he carefully left his hands limp at his side as Rick began to finger him faster and harder. He scissored his fingers between jabs to Morty’s prostate. The boy was babbling again, murmuring and crying Rick’s name under his breath. It was the sweetest sound Rick had ever heard. He was drunk on it, drunk on love for the first time. This wasn’t like the intoxicated coupling of the previous night. This time he knew what he was doing, and it was so, so sweet. Impossibly delicious.

“I love it when you say my name,” he groaned, kissing Morty behind the ear as he relentlessly drove his hand into him.

“I can’t take much more of this, Rick,” Morty whined, his voice taking on a desperate edge. “Please, please, please. I want you inside of me. Rick, _please_.”

“Fuck. I can’t say no to you, baby. Get up on your hands and knees. That’s it. Now lay your head down.” Morty obeyed, and Rick ran his hand over the curve of his back. “It’s going to hurt less this way,” he promised.

Rick fumbled out of his belt and with an appreciative growl he loosed his erection from the confines of his pants. With one hand he stroked his cock, covering it with saliva and precome. He lined himself up with Morty’s entrance, and he laid himself across his body, holding him under the hips. 

“Is this what you want?” he breathed against the shell of Morty’s ear. He nudged his hips forward just slightly, knocking at the door. He felt Morty’s hole fluttering against the tip of his dick and he almost lost it at the sensation. “Tell me what you want, Morty.”

“Please, I want your cock inside of me, Rick,” Morty mewled. He was pressing his hips back toward Rick as much as he would let him. 

“Here it comes, then, baby,” he soothed. 

Rick pressed forward in one long, smooth glide, burying himself insistently to the hilt inside of Morty. He buried his face in the boy’s shoulder and groaned from deep inside himself. Morty wailed under him. Rick splayed one hand against the boy’s stomach and began rocking into him. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t satisfy his need for Morty’s flesh against his. But his cock was screaming for more stimulation, so he began to pull back and thrust in earnest, coming nearly the whole way out and slamming home again and again. Soon Morty was sobbing, his tiny frame hiccuping as he screamed out his pleasure. 

“Oh? You like it right...there?” Rick asked him wickedly, gliding the head of his cock over a spot that seemed to be driving Morty wild. It was a shallower thrust than his body strictly wanted, but his appetite was more for Morty’s pleasure than his own.

“Yes,” Morty whimpered. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” His legs were quivering.

So delicious.

Rick placed kisses on Morty’s skin as he fucked him, tasting the salt as he sank his teeth into his nape. He held him by his hips, keeping him from thrusting backwards so that he could keep toying with him. Over and over he hit Morty’s sweet spot, sending Morty into unfocused moans and spasms. 

“Please, Rick, please,” Morty begged him, “I want to come. I want you...I want you to come. Please. Come inside of me.”

It was the begging that undid him. Morty’s naked, honest wish for nothing more than Rick’s pleasure. His fingers dug into Morty’s hips with bruising force as he suddenly began to pound ruthlessly into his tight hole. Morty screamed out his pleasure as Rick slammed into him.

“Alright, baby,” Rick panted. He angled his hips, wringing a groan out of his own lips. “Let me see you touch yourself. Make yourself come.”

Morty needed no more encouragement than that. His hand flew to his cock and he began jerking himself off feverishly. The two of them struggled towards their own climaxes, their breaths coming in quick and shaky. Sweat dripped down Rick’s brow and trickled down the back of his neck. The musky scent of sex was all around him. The rhythm of his hips was beginning to stutter as all thought left him. He was _so close_. Then Morty’s body was clenching around him as the boy moaned out through his orgasm. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Rick gritted out as he came, milking himself into Morty’s asshole until he was dry. 

He had just enough wherewithal to slump over onto his side rather than collapsing onto Morty’s back. Morty fell in the opposite direction, looking into Rick’s eyes through half-lidded ones. Rick watched the afterglow settle into Morty’s body. The boy’s cheeks were pink, his breathing slow and shaky. His eyes were unfocused and sleepy. Sex looked good on Morty, and Rick vowed to himself that he would see it as often as he could. 

“Morty.” He didn’t know what he wanted to say until it was tumbling out of his mouth. “I swear every day I’m going to try to make it up to you. I love you. I’ve loved you all along, I was just...I was so scared of it, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ve never...I’ve never loved anyone before you.”

“Not even grandma?”

“Not even your grandma, not really. We found each other, and we both needed someone...but that’s not the same thing.”

“I wish you had just told me that, Rick.”

“So do I. I was such a coward.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you were. You’re an asshole and I’m so angry at you. But I love you, too, Rick.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t. But you have me anyway.”

Morty reached out and twined his fingers together with Rick’s. Rick squeezed his hand. For the moment, it felt as if maybe things would be ok.


	8. Chapter 8

“Jesus, Rick!” 

Morty raised his blaster and shot off the face of the bulbous alien who was creeping up on the scientist, ready to drop out of the trees and onto his head. Rick barely looked up from shoveling crystals into his messenger bag.

“You’ve got my back, Morty,” Rick said with a shrug. 

The jungle felt claustrophobic, and Morty just wanted to get out of here. It had taken hours of walking in circles before they had finally stumbled on the Kalaxian Crystals. Morty’s hair was damp all over with sweat and sheer humidity, his shirt sticking to his skin. Rick wouldn’t tell him what they needed the crystals for, either, which annoyed him even more. That clearly meant it was something Morty wouldn’t approve of.

Rick had always been a no-good addict, but in the weeks that followed their first time he spent all of his waking hours far beyond fucked up. Morty didn’t like seeing it, but he supposed he understood. He wished that _he_ could be drunk or high or whatever combination of the two that Rick was at any given time. He was mourning the loss of their mental link, and frankly furious with Rick for going through with the surgery once he’d told him what happened. Rick had taken something precious from him without ever asking--something he could never get back. But he had given Morty something else in return.

His heart.

Morty just tried to tell himself that it had to be enough. And once the floodgates had broken, Morty was inundated with overflowing affection and frantically rabid lust from his grandfather. They were fucking so often and so hard that sometimes Morty was worried Rick’s heart was going to give out. Rick would pull the ship over on the way home from an adventure, or call him down to the hatch, or even creep into his room late at night. He seemed to like the game of trying to wrest noises out of Morty while he was trying nothing more than to keep fucking quiet and not wake up his family. Morty was exhausted, but in the best way possible. He was happier than he had ever been and sadder than he had ever been and angrier than he had ever been.

“C-c-c-can we just go h-home, Rick? I don’t want to be here anymore! The m-m-mosquitos are like the size of birds.”

“Easier to swat them that way,” Rick grumbled.

“You think it’s easier to swat a bug the s-s-size of a bird? It’s like a monster mosquito, Rick! We have to go home, Rick! D-don’t you have enough crystals yet?”

“Not even close. Just shoot them, then, Morty.”

“I’ve been trying!”

Morty grabbed Rick by the shoulder and turned him so they were face to face. Rick was scowling at him, starting to turn red. His eyes were unfocused, though, and his gaze far away. Morty hated this. He just wanted Rick to be sober for five minutes.

“My bag is full. Your bag is full. W-w-we’re going home, Rick!”

He reached into Rick’s pocket and grabbed the portal gun, yanking it out. He swiveled and shot a portal into thin air. 

“Yeah, yeah. Ok, Morty, whatever. Little shit. We’ll go home.”

That evening Rick was nodding off at the table, his head in hand and drooping dangerously close to his meatloaf. Morty cleared his throat, nudging Rick under the table. Rick snorted and sat up straight, blinking around at the family. 

“Pass the peas,” he slurred to no one in particular. Morty pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to go over great.

“Are we not going to talk about this?” Jerry demanded suddenly, pounding his fist down on the table. 

“Can I be excused?” Summer asked, not waiting for an answer as she slid from her seat and headed upstairs. 

Morty watched her, wondering if he should follow suit. But what if Rick needed him? This was yet another situation in which they _really_ could have used that telepathic link. Stupid Rick, always thinking he knew what was best for him…

“Jerry,” Beth hissed, her eyes flicking to Morty’s face, “we can talk about this later.”

“No! We’re not going to put this off anymore, Beth! Your father is a _horrible_ example for our kids. _Especially_ Morty!” Jerry’s brow was furrowed deeply.

“Dad,” Morty tried to speak up, but his father glared back at him and it shut him right up. He looked over at Rick, who was blinking back and forth between his parents with a dopey look on his face. High, then, not just drunk.

“Morty is a responsible young man, aren’t you, sweetie?” Beth said, turning to Morty.

“Y-yeah, mom. D-D-DARE to resist drugs, am I right?” He chuckled nervously. 

“The fact that he knows Rick is on drugs just solidifies my point!” Jerry cried. “It’s bad enough that he drinks constantly and drives our children around, but now who knows what he’s snorting or...or...shooting up with our son around!”

“Geez, dad. It’s just his meds from his s-s-surgery,” Morty said.

“Yeah, _Jerry_ ,” Rick sneered. “I’ve got a prescription, bitch!”

“That surgery was weeks ago! Even if that’s true, he should be off of them by now.” Jerry crossed his arms, staring down Beth and avoiding Rick’s glare.

“If he says he has a prescription then he has a prescription!” Beth argued back. “You wouldn’t tell him to not take his medicine, would you? As a doctor, I can definitely say--”

“Horse doctor!” Jerry shouted. “You’re a _horse doctor_.”

“That’s because of you, Jerry, you fucking leech.” Rick was getting his hackles up, pointing at Jerry furiously. “Beth had options before you slinked into her life with your pathetic ‘woe is me’ attitude! She gave up _so much_ for you, and how do you thank her? You’re an unemployed sack of rocks trying to drag down _my daughter_ , and--”

“Dad! You..you shouldn’t talk to Jerry that way,” Beth said. She quickly picked up her wine glass and tilted it to her mouth, but Morty saw her sly smile.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who invited himself to sleep here for free and eat our food.” 

“Dad, please don’t think of yourself as a burden,” Beth spoke up quickly, looking worriedly at her father. “ _We love having you here._ , don’t we, _Jerry_?”

“I-I-I do,” Morty said quietly. Rick heard and smiled at him softly. 

“Son, he’s teaching you horrible habits,” said Jerry. “Taking you out of school and drinking in front of you. I bet he even got those hickeys at some horrible space-brothel, Beth!”

“He’s gotten himself some kind of little girlfriend, haven’t you, son?”

“Right on,” Rick said, nodding his head loosely. 

“Shut up, Rick. Stop lying. When does Morty have time to have a girlfriend? You have him out every minute, morning, noon and--”

Morty shot to his feet, knocking his chair back. “RICK IS MY SOULMATE!” he shouted, stopping the argument dead. His shoulders heaved with anxious breaths. Rick looked suddenly sober. 

“What...what was that, Morty?” his mom asked pleasantly, holding on to her ignorance for just another extra moment. 

“Rick is my Soulmate.”

“Morty,” Rick said warningly. He turned to Beth, but Morty cut him off.

“No, Rick. I d-d-don’t want to l-lie for my whole life. We’re Soulmates and we’re in love,” Morty said. 

“Dad…” Beth had blanched totally white. “What is he talking about?”

Rick groaned and pushed his fingers through his wild hair. “It happens, Beth. You know that. Maybe not _often_ , but there’s precedent--”

“‘It happens?’” Jerry bit out, an insane laugh playing on his lips. “Oh, I guess that makes it ok, then. No, wait. _You’ve been molesting my son, you bastard._ ” 

Jerry got up from his chair and took a step toward Rick who shot up out of his seat, towering over Jerry who backpedaled quickly. 

“Nobody’s been _molesting anyone_ ,” Rick said, voice low and dangerous. “I promise you that the sex is very, _very_ consensual.”

“Yeah, dad. I-I-I w-wanted it,” Morty said. 

Beth tried to touch his shoulder and he wrenched it away, eyeing her defensively. She pulled back, covering her mouth with shaky hands.

“We just thought you had a girlfriend,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Morty...why didn’t you tell us sooner? We would have gotten you some counseling. We would have...would have…”

Jerry spat out a horrified laugh. “You’re thinking about _accepting_ this, Beth? I can’t believe how _deluded_ you really are!”

“What do you want to do, Jerry! They’re _Soulmates_. This would have happened sooner or later, and…”

“And it should have happened later,” Rick said quietly. Every eye in the room turned toward him. “I tried, Beth. I tried, I really did. I’m sorry.”

“Dad?” Beth took a step toward Rick, her hands held to her chest. “You’re...you’re not going to go away, are you?”

“No, Beth. I’m not. You hear that, Jerry? I’m _not_ going anywhere. You’re just going to have to deal with this.”

Morty let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“No. No way. You’re banished from this house _right this second_ ,” Jerry said, emphasizing his words with knocks on the table.

“ _Fine_ ,” said Rick, spreading his hands. He reached out and snatched Morty by the arm. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

Ignoring Beth’s cries, Rick dragged Morty into the garage. It was cold out here, and Morty asserted himself under Rick’s arm partially for the warmth and partially so he wouldn’t have to see his face.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Rick groused. “That was a real dick move you pulled in there.” Rick wrenched his arm away and began sifting through his belongings, opening drawers and digging through boxes.

“I’m tired of l-lying, Rick,” said Morty. “I’m t-t-tired of mom and dad fighting, and I’m t-tired of letting you control everything, Rick!”

“‘Cause you really fixed things up in there, _Morty_. It really sounds like they’ve stopped fighting and accepted us.”

“They’ll come around.” 

Morty crossed his arms and tried to look defiant. By the wry look on Rick’s face, it seemed like he had missed the mark.

“They won’t have to do anything if I-- _where the fuck is it_?!” Rick growled. “Yeah, Morty, your parents have a _great_ track record where you’re concerned.”

The door opened and Morty looked over, freezing. Summer stood in the doorway, wearing her pajamas and a jacket. 

“What the fuck is going on in there?” she asked, closing the door behind her. “What the fuck did you guys do? I’m trying to call Ethan but they won’t shut up!”

“Rick’s my Soulmate,” Morty blurted out. He heard Rick groan behind him.

“That’s it? That’s, like...the whole problem?”

“Yeah, Summer. Me having an incestuous relationship with their underage son is the tiny problem that your parents are contending with right now.” He dug something out of the bottom of a cardboard box. “Got it!” he crowed.

Morty looked back at Rick, who was holding up a device that looked a little like some kind of optometrist’s gear on the end of a gun. 

“Wh-what’s that, Rick?” Morty asked nervously. 

“The solution to all my problems, Morty. I’m gonna wipe your parents’ memories and things can go back to normal. Move, Summer.”

Summer did move...to more fully block the doorway.

“Nuh-uh. I’m not living through this fight again.”

“Yeah, Rick! It w-w-will just be worse if they catch us someday! At least we told them h-honestly.”

Rick groaned again, pained frustration written all over his face. He leveled the memory gun at Morty.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t just wipe your memory along with everyone else,” he growled.

Morty stepped past the memory gun, grabbed Rick by the lapels and pulled him into a deep kiss. Rick pushed on Morty’s shoulders, but Morty held tight until Rick melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Morty and holding him close. Morty moaned into Rick’s mouth. He would never get over this sensation, never tire of the simple pleasure of being held by the man he loved.

“Gross,” said Summer behind them. “I’m leaving.”

The door slammed as Rick picked Morty up with a firm hold on his thighs, depositing the boy on the workbench. His hands slipped under Morty’s shirt. He held him firmly by the sides, his thumbs rubbing circles on the boy’s stomach. 

“Rick,” Morty whispered against his lips. “I--”

“I know, baby.”

Rick dipped back in for a deeper kiss, holding Morty against his body. They moved together as their tongues lashed together. 

Morty came back to himself when he heard a throat being cleared behind Rick’s back. He cracked one eye open. His mom. He pushed Rick away, nodding towards her in silent indication.

“Dad,” she said, voice flat and empty. “Are you really leaving?”

Rick started to pick up the memory gun, but Morty pushed his hand back down to the table top and narrowed his eyes. Rick sighed and turned towards his daughter.

“Morty and I get to...do what we’re doing, or no deal.”

“How could you do this?” Beth asked, her entire demeanor crumbling. “He’s just a kid!”

Rick pushed away from the workbench. Morty saw fury glinting in his eyes.

“Since when have you ever cared about what’s happening to him?! Did you even notice that he was barely eating until things started between us a few weeks ago? Did you have any idea that he’d been fucking _cutting himself_? Oh, and what about the years of bullying? You fucked up here, Beth.”

“ _I_ fucked up, dad? Oh really? And where do you think I learned from, huh? Maybe from my dad who married the wrong woman and just disappeared into thin air when I was _five_?”

“I never regretted marrying your mother for a second,” Rick answered, voice beginning to rise. “I made the right decision leaving! I was just dragging the both of you down already before she even left me!”

“Do you even know what it’s like to grow up without a father?!”

“No! I know what it’s like to grow up with a _bad_ father!” He advanced on Beth, who backed up a step. “Yeah, that’s right, Beth. Your grandfather was a real piece of shit. Be glad I saved you from that.”

“You never would have hurt me,” Beth said quietly, clearly trying to convince herself.

“I hurt you every day, Beth. I was never around. I was always drunk. Hell, I’m _still_ hurting you and you just let me hang around fucking up your kids because you don’t want me to leave again-- _that’s_ how bad I hurt you in a grand total of five years. Now imagine how bad it would be if I’d stayed around.”

“Rick,” said Morty, gently laying his hand on his grandfather’s arm. “That’s enough.”

Rick looked down at him, face flaming with anger. Morty just peered back steadily, holding his gaze. There was a tense moment between them before Rick began to deflate. 

“Not fair, Morty,” he mumbled. “Those fucking doe eyes…”

“Dad!” Beth shouted. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Please don’t talk about my son like that in front of me. Can you at least do that?”

“No can do, sweetie. Honestly, if it were up to me I’d just wipe your memory, but the kid here won’t put up with that. And I can’t say no to the little goober. He’s got me completely whipped, to be honest.”

“You can do that?” Beth asked. “Wouldn’t...wouldn’t that be best for everybody?” she asked, looking pointedly at Morty.

“I...can’t,” said Rick. He closed his eyes and took a deep inhale. “I know I’m selfish. I can admit that much. Now that I’ve found a scrap of happiness I just can’t give it up. I’m an old man, Beth. If you try to take this away from me I’ll push Morty through a portal and you’ll never see him again. I swear.”

“So...we’re at an impasse,” she said quietly.

“Guess so, sweetie.”

“Mom, Rick didn’t d-do anything wrong.” Morty held his stomach with closed fists, willing his mother to believe him. “We l-l-love each other. For real, mom!”

“Honey...he’s messed with your mind. He’s manipulated you.”

Morty shook his head vigorously. “He’s my _Soulmate_ , m-mom.”

Beth wiped tears out of the corners of her eyes. “I’ll go tell Jerry to pack his things,” she said, voice pale as a ghost.

Morty watched her leave the garage and looked up at Rick. His grandfather was trembling, and he ran his hands down his face.

“She’s right, you know,” Rick said quietly.

Morty shook his head and touched Rick’s arm, who flinched away. “Rick...I don’t like where you’re going with this, Rick…” 

His blood turned to ice as he watched Rick back towards the memory gun. He lunged forward and grabbed the invention before Rick could get to it. He hopped backwards, holding it out of Rick’s reach. Rick advanced on him, towering over him, looking bereft and desperate. As he reached out his long arms, Morty turned his back on him and threw the memory gun as hard as he could against the concrete floor. It exploded into tiny pieces that went skittering all over. 

Rick’s chest collided with Morty’s back, and he curled over him, pressing his face into the crook of Morty’s shoulder. Morty felt hot tears drip onto his skin, and Rick put his arms around him, balling his hands up in Morty’s teeshirt. 

“I don’t deserve you, Morty,” Rick cried into his shoulder. “I don’t deserve this. I’m so fucked up. And I stole your innocence.”

“Rick...I know you’re fucked up, ok? But you didn’t s-s-steal anything from me. You can’t s-steal something that’s a gift.” He turned in Rick’s grasp, and let his grandfather nuzzle against his cheek. “I love you, Rick. I’ll love you f-f-forever.”

“I love you, Morty,” Rick sobbed. 

Morty turned around and took Rick’s face between his hands. He wiped tears from Rick’s beautiful blue eyes with his thumbs, and smiled his warmest smile for him. “I forgive you, Rick. For the surgery. I d-don’t know who hurt you before, but...it’s clear to see that someone d-did. You’re going to have to learn to j-just talk to me, though.”

Rick nodded mutely, sniffling. Morty’s smile widened. He thought he saw acceptance in his grandfather’s eyes.

“Do you want to s-s-stay here, Rick? With mom and...with mom and Summer?”

“I don’t know, Morty. I really don’t know. Where else would we go?”

“What ab-about that Citadel place?”

Rick shook his head. “Not there. Fuck that place. If I wanted to go somewhere to just wait to die I’d go to Florida.”

“Ok, well...let’s just try it out for a little while, ok?”

Rick threaded his fingers through his and squeezed his palm. “Ok, Morty. We’ll try things your way for a little while.”

“Th-thank you, Rick.” Morty pressed his cheek to his grandfather’s chest, luxuriating in his embrace. <

“Anything for you, Morty. Forever and ever and a hundred years, just Rick and Morty.”


End file.
